


A Lie

by Headsareoverheels



Series: Among The Things Unsaid [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos is headmaster, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Atarah is History of Magic, Atarah is my oc, Elves, Elves are pansexual, Ethari is Care of Magical Creatures, F/M, Hogwarts, Lujanne is Transfigurations, Magic, One-Sided Callum/Claudia (The Dragon Prince) - Freeform, One-Sided Harrow/Viren (The Dragon Prince), Runaan is Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sarai Lives AU, Viren is Potions Master, ezraanya, not canon, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headsareoverheels/pseuds/Headsareoverheels
Summary: Rumors in the air push Sarai and Harrow to choose a guardian for their children. They trust Atarah, but complications arise. She can't seem to separate her charges from their new, dangerous friend nor the danger's overprotective mentor from herself. As she learns more about the Moonshadow elves, Atarah wonders how much she knows is true, and how much is a lie.---------------------------------Part One of Three---------------------------------Runaan/OFC | Hogwarts AU
Relationships: Aanya/Ezran (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari & Rayla & Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Runaan (The Dragon Prince)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Among The Things Unsaid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688305
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. DISCLAIMER

**_The Dragon Prince_ belongs to Netflix and _Harry Potter_ belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but my characters and original plot. No profit comes from this, this is purely for entertainment purposes only. Do not repost my story anywhere or claim it as your own; it is mine. I will be crossposting this fanfiction under my Wattpad and FF.net accounts with the same username, headsareoverheels.**

**Credit for the images of Runaan and the show's logo on the cover and chapter headings goes to Netflix, and credit for the layout goes to Canvas templates; however, all editing was done by me. Do not steal this cover or any of the chapter headings.**

**The story is rated teen and up for violence and suggestive themes. This explanation and disclaimer will be updated as the story progresses. Read at your own discretion.**

**Not everything will be canon-based unless I specify otherwise; do not tell me to change my story because of it. Fair warning to angry readers, I am not homophobic and neither is this story. In this fanfic, elves don't regard sex or gender as qualifications for love. Runaan is pansexual. Don't read this story if you don't like that.**

**I thank those who choose to read my work. Support of any kind is appreciated.**

**\- headsareoverheels**

_Last updated: 4.08.2020_


	2. The Guardian

The sound of the door chimes ringing and a pitter-pattering of eager feet didn't rouse the yellow-blue toad. He was used to being ignored and stopped reacting to customers after the first few days of his stay at Fienier's Familiars. It's been nearly a year since his first day. He tried not to notice how adoraburrs and shadowpaws leave the shop every week, and would instead pretend that the layer of dust gathering on his cage was not affecting his nostrils. If anything, the toad knew that he was lucky to have landed with a shopkeeper who knew how to bake; who would have known jelly tarts were this delicious?

His daily jelly tart pile now only had one last pastry left on top of an array of crumbs. The toad eyed it hungrily.

"I don't want an adoraburr, Callum," one of the customers spoke tiredly.

"Are you sure? 'Cause you'll be away from home and from our da—your dad for ten months, and you'll miss him. They are great for cheering you up, plus," rambled the other customer, presumably Callum, "They're so cute!"

The glow toad wondered if he should eat it now or save it for later.

"Then you get one! I can make my own decisions, Callum." The voice and the sound of footsteps drew nearer.

Perhaps he should eat the jelly tart now, enjoy the golden crust filled with its sweet filling.

"Ezran? Ezran, where'd you go?"

"... you like jelly tarts too?" whispered a voice.

The toad snapped its mouth shut. Looking up, he saw big, blue eyes on a brown face topped with a fuzzy dark mane of hair. This... boy was looking at him—no, he was looking at his jelly tart! He croaked indignantly, flashing red. The boy laughed.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm not going to eat your jelly tart! Although, now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry."

Red didn't revert to yellow and the glow toad croaked again, but the young boy didn't respond this time. He just watched the lizard with interest. Sensing this, the toad's red died down and went blue. He curled his tail around the plate with the tart.

"Ezran, there you are! Don't run away like that, you scared me." Callum, the glow toad observed, was not at all like the first boy, Ezran. Instead of blue, his eyes were olive green and his face was whiter. Instead of puffing up like Ezran's hair, Callum's hair fell down all over his face. Oh, and he was much taller.

"I didn't run, Callum, you just suck at multitasking." The taller boy raised his eyebrows, prompting Ezran to continue. "It could be an adoraburr, a drawing, or Claudia and suddenly the rest of the world is dead to you."

Callum's cheeks burned red and lit up his face. The lizard wondered if humans were part glow toad.

"W-what? Claud-Claudia? Oh no, no, we're—we're only friends! Good friends, close friends! She's very smart and funny," stuttered Callum, waving his hands in the air and looking away awkwardly. Ezran sighed and shook his head before kneeling down to take the glow toad out of its container. Quickly, the toad flicked out its tongue and ate his last jelly tart.

"—good at spells, but all mages cast good spells, so it's not like there's anything more to it or special. But I'm not saying she's not special, because she is—"

The glow toad looked at the boy holding him in confusion while licking his lips. Was Ezran seriously going to pick him as a pet? More than that, did he even want to be picked as a pet? His life at a magical pet shop was not the worst and he got to eat many jelly tarts every day. Meanwhile, Ezran pulled up to the shopkeeper and paid in galleons. The shopkeeper looked bemused that the normally fussy toad was placid in the boy's arms and made no movement to stop the exchange.

"Callum, wake up," said Ezran. He cradled the toad in one arm while reaching for the shop's pamphlet on glow toads.

"—so it's normal for me to like her, she's practically my sister, but not related to me. So my feelings are purely platonic," finished Callum with confidence. Finally, he noticed the situation. His body slumped. "Aaaaand, you chose to get a frog."

"It's a glow toad, Callum."

"Not as cute as an adoraburr," Callum muttered under his breath. He sighed and stood straighter. "Well, we still have a lot to do today, and that's not even counting our stop at Ollivander's. I heard it can take hours to find the right wand!"

Ezran's stomach grumbled.

"Hungry, are we?"

"Can we stop at a bakery first?"

Callum laughed. "You and your obsession with jelly tarts."

"Hey, Bait likes them too!"

"Bait? What, are you gonna use your frog to fish for food?"

"Glow toad, Callum. And dad once read me a story about a glow toad named Bait, who was unfortunately delicious. I think he would approve."

The toad only caught onto the first half of the conversation, relieved. So he wasn't going to lose jelly tarts in his new life. It's not like life at a magical pet shop was the best. He won't be missing any of the other animals, that's for sure. Maybe life will get interesting now. His new owner, the boy Ezran, adjusted his hold and accidentally rubbed a part of his belly. He flipped over automatically and panted happily when Ezran caught on and rubbed his belly again.

"Look, Bait's pink! I think pink means he's happy! He must like belly rubs," Ezran exclaimed. The toad wasn't dumb. Like many other magical animals, he was intelligent. He could understand what Ezran was saying and knew he had finally been given a name. Even the baker-slash-shopkeeper hadn't named him.

 _Bait_.

The toad glowed more fiercely.

* * *

Back at Katolis Manor, Lord Harrow rolled up a scroll that his songbird, Pip, dropped off. The contents were worrying, so the lord of the manor sought his closest advisor.

He walked quickly from the open window to the door, entering a hall adorned with a red carpet brimmed with gold and matching tassels. There were three guards in that particular hallway but used to them as he was, Harrow ignored them and walked to the West Wing, only six rooms away from the one he initially was in, his study. Even though it was his study, as the person who had to keep important communications in control, he made sure to be near the manor's Owlery. His brown and bright green songbird looked odd when seen with the surrounding pale owls, but no one dared question his choices. Well, no one except his advisor.

He stopped in front of the third door on the right of the new hall, knocking twice before entering.

"Sarai?"

"Mmph, what is it, Harrow?" garbled Sarai through a mouthful of pastry. A brief look of amusement flickered in Harrow's eyes at the sight of his wife.

"Jelly tarts? While managing," Harrow started, glancing at the papers, "the housing accounts?" Brown eyes curved in an innocent smile. He sighed, wanting to smile back but knowing the situation wasn't appropriate. "Viren sent a letter."

Sarai picked up on his tone and tensed, smile fading. "What did he say?"

"Zubeia and the Moonshadows have met twice in a fortnight." Sarai abandoned the papers she had been reviewing and stood to begin walking around the room. "He says he's heard Moonshadow elves talking about vengeance and most of the population are upset about the lost prince. There's a phrase he's heard them say. A grim one, Sarai." She stopped pacing, pausing to hear him confirm her thoughts.

" _A life for a life_."

She turned and faced him. "We cannot stay here."

"What do you mean? We?"

"I made a vow to stand by your side no matter what, or do you just constantly forget? Harrow, they are going to try to kill you for what happened to Avizandum and the child." She froze in realization. "Our children." Harrow looked at his wife helplessly, watching as her fear turned to anger.

"They're going to be at Hogwarts, Sarai, they'll be safe there. Viren will keep an eye on them," he tried. Sarai scoffed and retorted, "Viren has different priorities from the rest of us, how am I supposed to trust him with my sons?"

It was true, and Harrow knew that the reason Viren served Katolis was because of their close friendship more than aligned interests. But there was a reason Hogwarts was deeply trusted. "Aaravos is the strongest archmage there ever was, nothing will happen to them under his watch." Sarai's shoulders released some tension but her face told Harrow she wasn't saying something.

"What is it?"

"We can send someone trustworthy to look over them. Put them in the staff."

"There aren't any empty spots—"

"Yet," Sarai interrupted with a tiny smirk, feeling more sure of her plan. "The History of Magic professor is how old? I remember Callum telling me the old man constantly falls asleep mid-lecture. I'm sure retirement will suit him well enough."

Harrow cocked his head in curiosity. "Wait, is it still Binns?" Sarai giggled and nodded, encouraging Harrow to go on. "He's still working there? Oh no, poor Callum," Harrow chuckled, thinking of the hours he had to spend reading with cotton-stuffed ears to not be lulled to sleep. As Lord of Katolis, Harrow had to know history well enough to understand the politics that surrounded his life. He could only imagine how Callum fared, though Callum wasn't set to inherit a heavy title like he was.

He wasn't his, but he was in heart. Sarai had Callum with another man who died before they had even met. Out of respect for his biological father, he never tried too hard to pursue a father-son relationship with the young boy. The results were things like missing the stories that Sarai was told and not being able to laugh with his step-son about falling asleep in History of Magic. The thought sobered him. 

"Sarai, I understand your hesitance. There's nothing concrete enough to excuse removing them from school for God knows how long, but the rumors are serious. Who exactly are you thinking of?" he inquired.

"Atarah," she responded, not missing a beat. Harrow blinked. "Your own personal guard?"

"I really can't trust any other eligible person. She's well trained in history and politics. Need I speak for her physical or magical abilities?"

"I am familiar enough," he stressed. It was a bad memory, one of many assassination attempts on the lady of Katolis. Atarah had been part of her entourage, a group of four guards. The other three on the scene were rendered either immobile or unconscious from the serious injuries they sustained. She had apparated back at the grounds where Harrow stood a few meters away before disappearing again. Harrow assumed Atarah had gone back to collect the other guards but when she returned, she dropped a body and gruffly said, "The assassin, my lord." After a few more labored breaths, she clenched her hands at her side and froze, not moving a muscle. When Harrow asked later, Opeli explained she had been conserving her energy in order to recover and still stand guard.

Apparently, the bleeding had been internal as well. The move that had taken out the other guards was an overwhelming pressure spell that broke one guard's spine and cracked multiple ribs of each person attacked. Atarah had five broken ribs and a migraine, and the cuts came from a spell directed at Sarai who was disoriented and had four broken ribs, so she couldn't repel the attack herself at the time. Still, Atarah had dragged herself up, lacerations bleeding heavily from two places in her back where she had been hit, and quickly stunned the perpetrator before grabbing Sarai and delivering her to safety. If nothing else, the woman could endure and her endurance was something Harrow was incredibly grateful for.

He didn't know much of her or what happened with her after that, but since she was the only one in the group who returned to Sarai's guard and appeared more constantly than anyone else, he guessed Sarai had befriended her and then promoted her to personal guard after Amaya left her side to deal with the Sunfires. This in mind, he closed his eyes in acquiescence. After all, she had chosen well. 

"Very well, I trust your decision."

"Yes, but _you_ also need more protection. This place is too conspicuous and staying will only endanger everyone else here needlessly. I trust Gren and Corvus to handle things here until this mess passes. I've still got a safe house near the borders of Lux Aurea; that would bring us closer to my sister, which would be nice if Atarah won't be by my side. I guess asking for Viren's input for this part could work as well—as long as no dark magic spells are involved."

"You might just be asking for too much of him now," Harrow joked. Sarai walked up to him and put her arms around his head "I think he can be persuaded this once." She kissed him gently.

"Ah," Harrow exhaled after pulling back. He licked his lips mockingly and teased, "Jelly tart. My favorite." He grinned at her responding giggle. 

* * *

Atarah was simply too busy to not take her days off seriously. She didn't resent her job, but neither did she take a reprieve for granted. After all, Commander Gren's angelic personality didn't hold back during training. There were days where her wand hand would be out of commission and Gren, upbeat as ever, saw it as an opportunity for her to become adept at using her non-dominant hand for spells like she witnessed him and General Amaya do multiple times. 

She was pretty sure Gren was only pushing her limits because he felt like he owed it to his absent general, to make sure the person who replaced her as her sister's guard was good enough for the position. Atarah knew Lord Harrow's personal guards weren't pushed like this, and neither were the non-specialized mage guards, but they weren't directly under Gren's command and standing in for his commanding officer's sister like she was. It's probable that Gren also didn't want Amaya to kill him if Atarah only had endurance and lacked enough skill, no thanks to him. She was sure of her magical prowess before training with the commander. However, the exercises he made her do would initially leave her sore and irritated because she wasn't fast enough or strong enough. It was a humbling experience she was grateful for, but one she still hated.

There was also physical training, to prepare her should her wand become compromised during an attack. As if things weren't troublesome enough with magic helping her. Take it away and she felt like a fish out of water; she was a stranger to hand-to-hand combat, and that's not mentioning weapons. Humans could only rely on magic so much until their wands fail them in one way or another, and then they could truly be called ordinary. 

Elves don't have this issue; they can naturally use their bodies as a conduit for magic and use wands to heighten their control and power. Even if you took their wands, they could still hex you to next Saturday if they wanted. Physical strength wasn't really their priority since evolution didn't demand their bodies to make up for their magic as it did for humans. Thus, nearly all elves were lean beings, some taller or shorter than others, but all were missing the natural, bulky muscle mass found in the race of men.

As a woman, Atarah just above the average height, a compact figure that was 183 centimeters tall. Her body hardened with muscles after three years of training with Gren, but it seemed impossible to erase the bulge at the bottom of her stomach; though her abdomen was now more defined, her insides still required space and her muscles seemed to have developed on top of them respectfully. Multiple whitened scars appeared on tan skin, speaking of past pain and battles. She wished she could describe her facial features, but after seeing them all her life, they looked normal to her. People would say they wished they had her lips, but Atarah didn't understand why. Her most prominent facial feature was definitely her eyes, which was often called "slanted" or "cat-like" or many other interesting adjectives to state her obvious mono-lidded look. Lady Sarai got similar comments towards her own eyes, though they were more pleasant versions than the thoughtless ones Atarah received.

Physical training wasn't all she was told to do. To give her a break but still have her work, she was ordered to listen to the latest political events, to be able to best provide her Lady thoughtful counsel should she want it or to make the right decisions to protect her. Trust is hard to come by outside a family or sect, most of all in Katolis as it remains the oldest and strongest family of the human race, so even tedious lectures were taken seriously by the human mage.

Yet once every four weeks, Atarah was given a day to manage her affairs or rest. Since her life and friends revolved around her job, she spent her free days resting in the manor instead of visiting people. Though, the manor, like the Owlery, was a severely outdated term. Perhaps it was a manor when Katolis decided to settle in the Western lands hundreds of years ago. Now, with more and more people joining the grounds and families multiplying by the generation, the original manor had been expanded upon and refortified. It now resembles more of a castle than a manor, but hard-headed traditional nobles refuse "to part with their history," and Lord Harrow wasn't fond of dealing with them so he let them have that much. Lady Sarai constantly made sarcastic comments on it, stopping only at her husband's silent behest.

Today, Atarah was dressed in a dark muted green dress. The skirt had two slits on the sides from the waistline and down but purposely overlapped to give an illusion of a complete skirt under which she had hidden personal paraphernalia. Nothing was flowy and no design decorated the top piece. It was perfectly unexceptional, matching her agenda to have a calm day. She put her hair up in its customary braided bun, compact and secure. Black boots were mostly hidden by her skirt. They were her most casual but action-ready footwear; guards—especially personal guards—are never really off-duty.

Two mage guards on patrol talked about their breakfast, reminding Atarah about the emptiness in her stomach. She went to the kitchens to amend that fact and came upon a scene of two children and their mother.

"And when I grabbed it, it started glowing!" Ezran expressed with a wave of his arms. Nearby, a yellow-and-blue lizard Atarah had never seen before lit up to mirror the boy's words. Lady Sarai's eyes softened and she smiled lovingly at her youngest son. Noticing the woman in green, she stood up from her chair, said good morning, and offered to ask the cook to make a meal for her.

"My lady," Atarah said and inclined the upper half of her body down quickly. Then she straightened up. "There's no need to bother the cook, I just came for some moonberries and cheese bread. Good morning, Callum," she inclined only her head. "Ezran." Another respectful nod to the second child.

"Hey, Atarah. How come you're wearing a dress?" Before she can respond, another voice beat hers, quicker than what politeness dictates.

"She's a girl, Callum."

" _I know that Ezran_ , but she's usually wearing light armor. I'm just wondering why she's not wearing it today."

"She's on her day off, Callum," Sarai supplied. "And she wants to eat, so let's leave her alone and finish packing your luggage to make sure you both have everything ready for Hogwarts."

"Again?" they groaned simultaneously. Sarai didn't change her facial expression, unrelenting and motherly. "Again."

They moved from their chairs and went to her, and she led them to the West Wing of the manor-slash-castle where their rooms and luggage were. Callum and Ezran trailed obediently after their mother, already beginning a new conversation about school. It seemed like they forgot the previous verbal pokes at each other and having to redo their suitcases for at least the second time. The brothers smiled and walked with renewed vigor, making Atarah shake her head in amusement and familiar bewilderment she associates with their behavior. Five years of her life were spent protecting Katolis, offering her service in exchange for a bed and daily food. Even as a regular mage guard, Atarah witnessed the boys grow up. The two shared a bond most siblings lack, let alone half-siblings.

Callum, she had always noticed, was willing to do anything to be a good big brother for Ezran. He pulled through his negative emotions the moment Ezran's eyes watered and never hesitated to pull his little brother in for a hug. Any time she could, she would humor Callum, who had grown curious of magic and would try to talk to the mage guards to learn. In some ways, Atarah could be considered his first magic teacher, even with their meetings and lessons being as limited as they are. The firstborn of her Lady took to magic more quickly than anyone else she knew, and there were times when his memory and skill would shock her and make her think it wouldn't be long until she would have nothing left to teach him, but Callum already developed this image of Atarah as a senior mage he looked up to. It was adorable to see his joy when he finally got a wand and cast his first spell. At the time, Viren had been visiting Lord Harrow and brought his children with him. His daughter, Claudia, had shown off her developing magical skills, effectively making an impression on Callum who experienced his first lady crush.

Ezran was less social than Callum, playful in nature and mischievously so. He preferred spending time in the gardens of the manor, where Atarah knew he knew she and several other guards would stand and watch from discreet locations. Times when he would disappear made her anxious, but she learned quickly how to pick up on his moods and pay close attention to his movements when he leaves his place. The other guards were in different spots than her, so she didn't bother alerting them to Ezran's movements and was one of very few who could keep up with the child. Still, thanks to him, Atarah was aware of secret passageways and hiding spots scattered throughout the grounds. Paired with his older brother's intellect and talents, the two were a menace and pulled off pranks on the mage guards, giggling until one of their parents would rebuke them for disrespecting the people who protected them. Even if their actions lacked logic and confounded her, Atarah recognized the genuine friendship they shared. It endeared them to her and made her want to protect their innocence that much more.

After her berries and bread snack, Atarah spent her day trying to not do anything. She couldn't completely control the way her overworked body automatically kept itself moving or how her eyes kept checking and rechecking her surroundings, reviewing notes in the back of her head on blind spots and where the safest part of the room was. But even this was relaxing compared to the actual job. She ignored her mind's ramblings and lounged on the branches of a willow tree behind the manor. Her legs swung back and forth on both sides of the curved arm of the tree on which she reclined her body. After a while, her stomach grumbled again. One eye opened slightly to check the time. The sun was still up in the sky but its westward journey across the blue expanse was nearing completion. Supper was set up for the noble family at this hour, and seeing no harm in taking some food from the cook's meal, Atarah swung down from the tree to infiltrate the East Wing's kitchen and eat.

Stepping through the window, Atarah made for the table the cook used to set the plates up with food, feet carefully moving without a sound. Before she could cross the room, however, a hand grabbed her arm and flipped her over. She turned on her side midair and crouched on the leg closer to the ground, which poked through the side slits of her dress.

"Respectfully, Commander Gren, I hate you." Her position allowed her to face her assailant, whose freckled face stretched in a well-worn smile.

"I knew you'd be here. You were gone almost all day, so it was only a matter of time before you remembered your humanity like the rest of us and came here to eat. Seriously, you suck at taking care of yourself," the man teased. Atarah pursed her lips, knowing he was right but unwilling to give him the conversation he wants. He knew this, of course, and went on like she wasn't silently fuming. "I had people search the grounds for you. The lord and lady have requested an audience," he began but was cut off by Atarah's groan.

"Gren, it's my day off. I only get around twelve a year; tell me it can wait," she complained. She didn't censor her feelings, and no one ever asked her to, since everyone knew it was justified and her job schedule was grueling. Even Gren was given two days off, doubling his breaks. He sometimes felt guilty about working her too hard and pampered her on her days off as a reward, but this time he wouldn't relent.

"They have requested an audience, Atarah. It's urgent."

His tone was more authoritative, causing her guard personality to kick in. "Where?"

"Lady Sarai's working quarters. I'll let Lord Harrow know."

With that, Atarah spun on her foot and went to go outside to avoid needlessly long and winding hallways. A wrapped package flew through the air, and she caught it with her right hand.

"It's food. You know, the thing you initially came here for? Remember that?" Atarah looked at him with narrowed eyes, her gratitude turning to unsurprised annoyance. He chuckled and left the room. The woman followed suit, exiting through the window and scaling the outside walls with ease. 

She unwrapped the warm package, breathing in the smoked salmon and cooked vegetables. There was no spoon to eat it with, but also nobody around to judge her as she used her hands. Satiated, her hands crumpled and pocketed the wrapping as she ran across the roof. Her mind took note of the lack of guards as something to fix tomorrow. When she reached the roof of Sarai's office, she swung down to the ground from the edge of the roof. She tucked her body in to roll out her momentum when she hit the ground, going until she was in the position to pop up and stand. The smooth stone brick ground was somewhat blocked by the thick materials of her dress. The place was guarded by four spaced-out guards, but if they noticed her drop from the roof, they made no comment. 

Calmly, Atarah brushed off dirt on her and walked through the concave opening to the West Wing's backdoor: the laundry room. It was busy and most of the servants wore white aprons over their clothes, but Atarah's dress wasn't too bright or dark to contrast greatly. Those who saw her respectfully moved out of her path, recognizing their lady's guard. Some greeted her politely but kept moving. She didn't mind. She went down the hall and up the stairs there. The rooms in the West Wing generally lacked windows since most were private rooms or bedrooms of the noble family. The rooms of the boys were on the second floor and had small windows, while Harrow and Sarai shared a master bedroom on the third floor with thin windows that connected to another room for leisure with an elegant balcony. The point was to make bedrooms secure from window break-ins and offer a sense of security for the family. 

At last, her feet stopped in front of a door. Atarah raised her hand and knocked in a distinctive pattern. Inside the room, the sound of a chair scraping the floor and quiet footsteps bled through the door. It opened and revealed Sarai's face.

"Atarah, come in."

She followed her charge and closed the door behind her, feeling slightly silly acting like a guard while wearing an incredibly common dress but was conditioned to obey her lady.

"I assume Gren finally found you. Has he told you what this is about?"

"No, my lady." Sarai crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Atarah's passive face twitched and then broke into laughter. The lady of Katolis shook her head in exasperation.

"It's not funny, you know I'm not used to customs of the nobility," muttered Sarai. Atarah knew this, finding it hilarious when her lady would at times not respond to the title and then whirl around in surprise when Atarah moved into her line of sight and tapped whatever object was nearby—but never her lady—to get her attention. Sarai explained it as not expecting to hear the title when not in public and representing the family, but Atarah was still amused.

"Even after twelve years of it?"

"Yes, even after twelve years," she responded, but for some reason, her voice lost its playfulness and sounded somber at the end. Atarah furrowed her brows.

"Sarai, is everything alright?" A question she knew the answer to, but formalities were formalities.

"Atarah, you've done so much for me and have proven that you are willing to do whatever it takes to protect me; I trust you, and that is why I am asking you to protect my sons." Atarah nodded, taking it to mean that Sarai was informed of a nearing attack on the family (the usual), but Sarai shook her head and raised a palm to indicate her guard wait. "I need you to protect them at Hogwarts this year as the professor of History of Magic." Atarah’s lips fell open but she closed them quickly and bowed.

"As you wish, my lady," she said, but something must have sounded off in her words because Sarai sighed and sat down in her desk's chair. "You must have questions. I promise they will be answered, but we have to wait for Harrow to arrive. In the meantime, help me clear the other chairs for you and Harrow to sit on."

She obliged her, taking the piles of paperwork and moving them to a small table against the wall. As Atarah was arranging one chair to be next to Sarai’s and the other chair to be a respectful distance away facing both of them, the door opened. "Ah, I see you've already started," Harrow commented amiably. The mage guard settled his chair and walked to her own. "Thank you." 

She nodded back. 

They were finally all settled and Sarai started. "We've received word of an attack organized by Zubeia against the children, but nothing concrete. We cannot take them out of their school without further certainty, but regardless it is not a concern either of us is able to ignore. Her people hold a deep, serious grudge against us."

"What do we know of their plans?" Atarah inquired.

"She's colluding with Moonshadow elves," Harrow answered, "but we don't know anything more than that." 

"Understood." Atarah hesitated. "They hold a grudge against Lord Harrow, too. Is it wise for me to leave your side? The school is protection enough. They have wards against harmful spells and Archmage Aaravos keeping watch over students and staff. You do not have that kind of defense."

"It is true that the school is well-defended," agreed Sarai. "However, Moonshadow elves have their mysterious ways. Out of all the elven races, they are the deadliest. A night with a full moon could be all it takes. Aaravos is busy dealing with a multitude of things. If he is but a second late, they could already be dead. I need you to be there and make sure none of that happens. 

"Harrow and I have already decided to leave to the Banther Lodge near Lux Aurea. I will reach out to Amaya, stay low until the situation blows over. Gren and Corvus have been informed and agreed to manage things here."

"A teacher?" she questioned.

"Professor. Of History of Magic." 

There were definitely problems with that. To have a job as a professor, you have to have gone to school and received excellent notes on your N.E.W.T.s for the subject you wanted. Atarah had learned history through politics, books, and narrated stories in unlikely places, not in a school. She was not even sure her existence was documented prior to her employment at Katolis, and she told them as much.

"My family has kept ties with Aaravos for many generations, and I am well-acquainted with him. He's not the kind of elf you'd expect him to be from his status and power. We just have to arrange a meeting with the two of you for you to convince him you're worthy of the job," Harrow informed Atarah. 

"Not that you have much to live up to, considering the current job holder," Sarai added to help Atarah relax. "You don't have narcolepsy and are at least half a century younger, very promising." The woman nodded slowly, taking in the information. It sounded very appealing, honestly. As a professor, she'd have weekends off every week and seasonal breaks. Sure, there'd be many teenagers to supervise and deal with, more specifically the two brothers. 

But Gren wouldn't be there.

"You can count on me, Lady Sarai," she said after a few moments of silence with a slight bow. "Lord Harrow." And again another nod.

"I will send Aaravos a letter about an applicant for the job and arrange a meeting three days from now. Given the special circumstances, you are off-duty for the remainder of your stay here before leaving for Hogwarts." Her heart soared and suddenly she didn't mind the interruption on her free day. "On the very off-chance you aren't accepted, none of your regular days off will be affected." Sarai looked at Harrow and they exchanged a silent agreement. They stood up at the same time and Atarah followed their movements closely. Sarai smiled at her.

"Thank you for this, Atarah. It means a lot to me." 

The guard bit back sarcastic remarks about not really having a choice to turn down a "request" from the lord and lady of Katolis, opting to nod obediently instead. She took her cue, bowed once more and left out the door. In three days, she was likely to be gone from the manor for a long time. There wouldn't be any eating the cook's food anymore or seeing Commander Gren. Atarah would like to say she had friends she will miss and that will miss her, but out of respect, no one really talked to the lady's personal guard, and out of wariness, no one befriended the outsider with the slanted eyes. 

Gren didn't apply to either of those, seeing as he was Atarah's superior and also the most non-judgmental person to have ever existed. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, but he hid too many parts from her—or rather, reserved those parts of himself for his true best friend and confidante who happened to be absent, influencing his slight dependence on Atarah. This loneliness was easy to face by constantly being on the job, but she wondered if things will change with more time to herself at Hogwarts. For now, Atarah focused on going to bed and worrying about how she was going to convince the best archmage in history that she was capable of teaching and handling a classroom. Perhaps it would be wise to ask Callum for advice. 

She reaches her room, which is across the manor's grounds in the East Wing. It's small but better than the barracks the regular guards shared. Being a personal guard had some perks. Her arm reached out to open the door and then close it and activate the metal deadbolt. Sitting down, she takes out the crumpled food wrapping in her pocket from earlier and tosses it into the bin against the wall in her room. Her boots slide off her feet and she unties the thin bags at each hip holding things that pockets simply weren't big enough for, placing them in the first drawer of the night table next to her bed. Right when she went to lie in her bed, someone knocked on her door.

"Who is it?" Atarah called out loudly. 

"Atarah, it's me, Sarai." The voice supported her claim but Atarah still peeked a look through the one-way eyehole. Seeing the lady standing there, she undid the deadbolt and opened the door. Sarai entered the room immediately, bypassing the normal invitation and causing Atarah to feel uneasy. She closed her door anyways and faced the noblewoman standing in the middle of her room.

"Don't worry, nothing is wrong, there are just a few things I want to tell that I didn't want to say in front of Harrow. He has his own opinions, and I respect that. I just happen to have my own that I think you should know."

"Sarai, you know I would not judge you or question your decisions."

"Yes, and I thank you for that. You've truly become someone I can trust deeply over these past years, Atarah. I came to warn you about a professor there. You've met him already. Do you remember Viren? He and his children Soren and Claudia came over once some years ago, and the children go to Hogwarts as well." The guard nodded to let her know she knew who Sarai was talking about. "Viren is the Potions Master at Hogwarts and teaches the class. 

" _Don't trust him_.

"He has a way with words to catch you off your guard and make you believe him, the worst kind of Slytherin. But he also practices dark magic and concocts unnatural potions. I'm not sure what his true aim is, but I wouldn't let him any closer than I could hurl a spear. Harrow is convinced Viren is loyal to Katolis, but they grew up together and Harrow is biased. Do not trust him with the safety of my sons, Atarah."

"My lady..." Atarah started but found herself unable to continue. Silence was wiser than speaking against Lord Harrow or Lady Sarai. 

"There is someone else: the matron, Madam Opeli. She is the nurse, an excellent healer and also a close friend like you. If you ever need help or need to contact me, _she_ can be trusted." Sarai's eyes were sincere and Atarah took her words to heart. Without another word or nod for formality, Sarai left the room. 

* * *

Night had fallen, and the moon hung in the sky. In a forest of trees surging with magic, there was a small clearing bordered with tall trees whose branches shadowed all but the center of the clearing. The darkness further obscured six hooded figures standing in a ring around the center. Arms grasped each other in a weaving lock. In the middle, illuminated by the moon, stood a regal being with pale silver hale gracefully tumbling down past their waist. Blue hands disappeared into shadow, linking themselves to the circle of limbs. They began to emit a swirling glow, brightening with every response given.

"Will you, Moonshadow elves, swear to secrecy and never directly or indirectly tell a soul about any future murder attempts on Katolians?"

" **We will**."

"And will you fight for me and Xadia with your heart and life?"

" **We will**."

"And should I order you to take a life... if anyone endangers the completion of our end goals... will you carry out my orders to the best of your abilities?" 

" **We will**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Her name is a-TAR-uh but I have seen other web sources that say it’s pronounced AT-er-uh. If there’s anyone who knows the more common pronunciation, please make it known in the comments or message me, either is fine. Also, her height was based on the heights of female characters in the show, so it might seem really tall but the girls/women are around her height (which is approximately six feet for my American readers). The dialogue in the fourth scene was paraphrased from the sixth Harry Potter movie, so not completely mine but I did modify it on my own (duh). Setting up the story is necessary, so it'll be a while before our favorite Moonshadow assassins interact with the other characters. Feedback and constructive criticism are appreciated, not flames.


	3. Dark Magic

Harrow woke up with Sarai out of their bed and had half a mind to go back to sleep and leave his wife in Atarah's care. She stood sentry behind their doors with the watch every day as part of her responsibilities as the personal guard of Katolis's Lady.

And then he remembered that they had given the mage three days off.

Something that was born when the King of the Dragons died, the fear of losing someone important, stung his heart. Harrow flung the covers aside and left the bed. He slipped on his red and golden robe, stepping out the door after his wife, feeling foolish but hurrying all the same.

As soon as the door opened, he came face-to-face with Atarah, who was dressed in her armored robes a fair distance from where Harrow stood. Behind her was Sarai, peeking owlishly at her husband, who stared back in bemusement.

"See? He rises immediately after you, my lady. Most likely attuned to your warmth and movements, and unconsciously responding to them."

"You just woke up?" he asked, perplexed. Sarai's eyes curved at her guard's words, but there was a blush on her cheeks that gave away her take on the subject.

"I finally woke up before you, figured I could do something else to rub it in," she drawled, her sly face contradicting the still-present flush. Upon noticing the stubbornness of his wife, Harrow smiled fondly.

"Such as?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The couple began to look at each other intensely and Atarah automatically shuffled back, making the most of her boots' charm to make a silent escape a few meters away as the two embraced each other, sharing the first kiss of the day. There usually weren't many; mostly, the two much preferred to tease the other instead. It was something about their dominant natures finding pleasure in getting their partner to submit first. However, both were equally whipped, and they had a habit of submitting simultaneously, which onlookers found adorable and dubbed as their bond. Atarah was probably the only one to pick apart the reasons for their behavior and find amusement that they never really made the other cave in before they did.

"Great, now you made my guard run away," Sarai mockingly complained when they separated.

"You know as well as I do that she's more likely watching in the shadows," the dark man retorted, adjusting his hold on the bold brunette to walk side-by-side in the halls. Atarah let out a confirming huff. "I thought she would take the day off we offered. We did take away some of her time yesterday."

"You do realize how these changes are affecting her routine, right?" Sarai spared a glance sideways, and her face fell flat at the sight of her husband raising an eyebrow at her. For all that Harrow looked out for his people, he had a habit of missing the small things. Fortunately, he had her.

"Harrow, Atarah has been in service at the 'manor' for five years, and for more than half of that time, she was my guard. The most social downtime she could have gotten is with the staff. But even then, becoming my personal mage guard would have severely limited what little interaction she had with others. With her quiet personality, it's inevitable that Atarah would accept not being social and make her job her life.

"Just yesterday— _yesterday_ , Harrow—we asked her to take on another job that will require substantially more social interaction in a completely new environment away from what has become her home. You shouldn't have expected her to gain a new personality or adapt so quickly."

At that, Harrow looked ashamed and flushed. Sarai sighed and took pity on him, leaning her head on his shoulder and rubbing his arm to comfort him the way she knew her well-meaning husband liked. Inside, she admired her husband's trust for her to never judge him or stop loving him when he displayed his imperfections. That more than made up for his shortcomings, which she loved anyway.

Atarah listened without reacting. Her Lady was correct, of course. She may have honed the skills and trust necessary to defend the boys, but a teacher she was not. Raw information, albeit enough to last several school years, was all she had concerning qualifications for the position as a history teacher. She had no idea where to begin, or if she would even be able to create her curriculum. Would the school ask her to stick with Binns's curriculum? What would her classroom look like? How many students and classes would she have to talk to?

 _Stop_ , Atarah told her mind firmly. She looked on blankly at the Lord and Lady of Katolis, marveling at their mundanity. Those two were in charge of so much; their responsibility was great, and hers as a guard was to protect them. Her identity was largely based on their lives. Her friends were their staff. Her breakfasts were often their untouched parts of theirs. Her clothes were from their manor's collection: her silence and trust, all theirs. When she separated from them, she would separate from herself, as well.

She smiled when she noticed the two weren't headed for the kitchen after all. The embroidery on the curtains turned into a more delicate and detailed pattern of lace, as was befitting of the heirs to the House. Other decorations on display progressively grew more expensive and ornate as the hall went on, but the difference was slight. Not many would pick up on the shift, certainly not the mischievous boys who knew about as much as their mother about such pleasantries and were as accustomed to them as their father to the point that they didn't even understand their appeal.

Atarah always hated overhearing Katolians badmouth the heads of the House and their children, who were the most down-to-Earth people she knew. Callum still believes his red scarf is fashionable, and Ezran spent more time outdoors on the ground than the average adoraburr; superiority wasn't in their vocabulary. Their parents made sure of that.

Even now, they went to wake their children up and share their morning break with them. These leaders, who told her less than twenty-four hours ago that Moonshadow elves were plotting to kill them and who upheld the lives of over two thousand people, wished to spend their free time with their sons. They made it easy to want to protect them and their close ones.

Sarai stopped before their doors, making a hushing sound to Harrow, who nodded with a smile. A gentle wake up. His wife smiled back, a gleam in her eyes as she took a key out of her pockets and swiftly slipped in through the unlocked door. There was a loud thud followed by a shout.

"HAHA, WAKE UP SLEEPYHEADS, YOU DON'T WANT TO BE WAKING UP LATE FOR YOUR CLASSES WHEN SCHOOL BEGINS!!"

" _ **AHHHHHHHH!!!**_ "

A sigh. "I thought we agreed to not wake them up with loud noises."

"What!? Dropping the book wasn't that loud!!"

"I wasn't talking abou—" he started but cut himself off. Two young boys groaned and saw their mother grinning at them and standing in the door connecting the wall between their rooms. "Well, what's done is done." Then, as an afterthought, "Though, you boys should get used to waking up earlier. It's already a quarter past seven."

"But _dad_ ," the youngest whined at the same time his older brother complained to his mother. The volume picked up a bit again, and Harrow couldn't help feeling a little out of his element but in a good way. Usually, Sarai took after the boys and slept in while he rose relatively early (meaning somewhere around eight o'clock) and worked on getting his mind ready for his day. Today she woke up first and with so much energy, thrumming with _life_. Moments like these showed him his actions were worth the consequences.

Harrow was certain he did not want to live a life without his wife.

It's not an incredibly dark or shocking thought to have. Their power and lives are often threatened. Maybe he would continue for his sons, possibly for his people, but living without her light would undoubtedly undo him.

He knew this moment should not be tainted with more dark thoughts and looked at Sarai again. Her face was glowing more, as it usually does when her sons enter the room. He still didn't do his morning meditation or fully wake up, and in his hazy mind, all he could process was a simmering love for the family he had. They were all so lovely, and he felt warm inside... so warm...

And he began to nod off.

"Mom, I think you need to wake up dad."

"Wasn't he just telling us we should be awake at this hour?"

* * *

Soon after, the family broke their morning fast together. Atarah noticed the new team of female mages now shadowing Lady Sarai. The message was clear: her Lady was ordering her to take leave of her duties. It stung to see them, though. She was not sure what else to do if not guard. Her friends were busy with their jobs and she had no hobbies she wanted to do now, but she obeyed Sarai and left. Sticking to what she knew best, Atarah decided to prepare for her future mission. There was a checklist she made while being told her latest orders. She hoped to get a new wardrobe to prepare for her interview with the most powerful mage in the world and the possibility of becoming a professor at Hogwarts. Now, since she feared taking the time to accept the change, she decided to tackle the list and distract herself.

The robed mage walked down the halls to her room and closed the door after her. Murmuring a spell, she drew off her charms and accessed the previously hidden fifth drawer. Inside was a variety of sealed documents with an unassuming pouch shoved into the corner, its material blending in with the interior of the drawer. She grabbed it, rummaged through its contents, and withdrew a golden, embellished key. She reversed her actions until the drawer was once again concealed. Without putting much thought into it, Atarah picked out a red long-sleeved shirt, a similar cloak, and dark gray pants. She changed into them, slipped the key into the pant's right pocket, kept her boots and braided bun, and left the room. It locked behind her.

The mage thought of who to ask for pointers on what a professor should wear to school. For some reason, Gren flashed through her head, but just as quickly, the idea was discarded. Her best bet was Callum, who actually attended the school now and could offer the opinion of a student. Despite his horrid, personal choices of fashion, Callum always had a good eye for art. She could trust that, at least. Traversing the halls once again, Atarah walked to the courtyard where the familiar, earthly path to Ezran's hideout started when she came across her objective himself standing amongst visitors.

In the middle of the stone brick grounds, a dignified man stood with a silver staff in his right hand. His robes were gray and black but with an enchanting design that spoke of his status. His body was framed by sharp edges of the outermost robe, going strikingly well with the equally imposing staff. The only color that stood out was the purple centerpiece of the staff. It was a gem cut so fine, it seemed illuminated by the sun's shine and captured it. This was a man of great import, but Atarah couldn't spare much more than a few moments upon noticing Callum was lively chatting with a taller girl.

It was clear from her dark and embellished clothes that she came with the man, but the rest of her outfit screamed non-magic. The tips of her dark hair were bright purple, and she wore bold silver jewelry and chains around her neck and wrists. A bag hung around her frame, though the straps were slim and suited her well. The nails on the hand batting air away as she laughed at something Callum said were painted black. She looked to be around his age. Atarah quickly glanced at the older man again and then closed her eyes momentarily as she remembered. Sarai's words flashed in her head. 

Without waiting for a second more, she pivoted, drew on her authority, and walked to the nearest guard on duty at the arch. 

"You, soldier."

A quick glance at her more ornate armor gave them all the information they needed. "Sir."

"Escort the visitors to the main hall. Be an example of Katolian hospitality." Atarah looked away in a wordless dismissal. They took the hint. Hastily, they approached the pair speaking with the eldest son of Lady Sarai.

"Greetings, Lord Viren. Is this your daughter?"

At once, the girl twirled to face the newcomer, Callum's entire face reddened, and the older man somehow stood straighter and politely smiled.

"Yes, this is—"

"Claudia of Del Bar, his daughter! Nice to meet you." Her mouth awkwardly stayed agog while maintaining a cheery face, and it seemed like she wanted to keep talking but didn't know what words to use. She settled for giggling and doing a toothy, sheepish smile.

"I am a mage of Katolis and servant of this House. We were not expecting you, but please, follow me. I will escort you to Lady Sarai and her husband." Both nodded and walked next to each other just slightly behind on her left. Callum fumbled with his stance but quickly made to leave as well. Thankfully, he was a beat off of the other two and too shy to assert himself alongside them. 

"Callum, I need to speak with you. Do you have time?"

Shaken from his internal dilemma, Callum immediately nodded and piped up, "Hey, Atarah. What do you need?"

"It's just something I wondered about if you don't mind humoring me," she responded calmly while walking forward. He copied her movements, and then they were walking along the path to Ezran's favorite hideout. 

"Callum, you've attended Hogwarts for two years. Can you enlighten me about the wardrobe of a professor? What do they generally look like?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, that's it? Their robes can look like anything they want, but all the professors I know cover up. Well, not their arms, but everything else, yes. Why do you want to know?" he asked with playful suspicion.

"I'm not familiar with the dress code, is all. I mean, I think I know what they wear, but my imagination comes from books and not real life. I suppose you mean to tell me there is no uniform or rules, just an expectation of not showing much skin. I'm not opposed to that." Atarah said all this wistfully with her head cocked at an angle to the right and oblivious of Callum's incredulity.

"Hold on, what do you mean you don't know what professors look like in real life? Did you not go to school?" he asked with animated hand movements.

"Not exactly. My education was... unconventional, I suppose. Nothing like going to Hogwarts. I realized I didn't know and wanted to ask you for your help. Callum, you're an artist with a great photographic memory, and you care about the details. Would you mind describing or drawing examples so I could learn more?" 

"Oh, yeah, of course! I already have some sketches of my professors," Callum said proudly. Atarah gave a small smile, though its scarce appearance made it that much brighter. She sensed his curiosity turning into suspicion, so she gave him something else to be distracted by and it worked like a charm. Adorable little raven with too many questions and wondering about anomalies. He turned to lead Atarah to his room where he left his sketchbook. Suddenly, images of a bloated Viren and ostentatiously dressed Lujanne flashed in his mind, and he backtracked. "Oooon second thoughts," he began nervously, "I think I lost them. I'll just... I'll just make new sketches."

It was no big deal. Callum spent his whole life drawing; it felt as easy as writing to him. Easier, still. He described the professors while drawing them, mentioning how the staff was predominantly elven and that they often paid homage to their House through color designs and details on their clothing.

"And they customize their clothes to represent who they are. For example, if you were a professor, I think you'd look a little something like this." The teenager flipped to a new page and casually drew an accurate outline of Atarah. He went to work on the top, starting with a collar with details from...

"Are you using the curtain design from the castle?"

"It's a manor," he answered automatically. Then he continued, "and maybe? Why, what's wrong with it?"

She gave him a look.

"Too much? Too much, okay, got it." He erased most of it and drew a basic baroque pattern. "There. And..." he drew puffy sleeves that ended with a tight sleeve, marked by the same design as the collar. "Nothing that drapes around your hands. Oh, and I know exactly what the skirt would look like!" After quickly darkening the lines following her waist, he enthusiastically drew long, sloping strokes on both sides past her hips, connecting them to form a long skirt mere inches above the supposed floor. Returning to the rounded top part of the skirt, he drew a band that ruffled out on top of the skirt and once again added the baroque design from before. Then, he drew the folding lines of the skirt. 

"See, the bottom part is detachable! The ruffles hide it. Unclip it from the band on your hips, and bam! Mobility increased! You always wear pants, both in uniform and in casual wear, so I figure you'd wear pants as a professor too. You can access the pant's pockets through a hidden slit in the skirt's folding." While explaining it, he added six buttons in the top's center and drew the design on them, two buttons per row. He finished, satisfied with his vision. "This is totally your style: a formal approach that doesn't abandon practicality." 

Atarah gazed at the dress-not-really-dress with interest. "The drawing is lovely. May I keep it?"

"You mean you like it?"

"Yes," she replied truthfully. He must've had people often ask him for his drawings because he only shrugged before tearing the page out and handing it over to her. She thanked him and stood up, feeling slightly relieved that she knew what she was looking for, even if she was not sure where. Callum, however, already knew too much and Atarah felt it best to not bring up the topic of her leaving her position to go with the two boys to Hogwarts. It is a can of worms best left closed while the family was enjoying their vacation. Let Callum think he was sating her curiosity. No need for lies.

She headed back into the castle—too big to be a manor—and rerouted to another exit to stave off suspicion from Callum. If he saw her leaving while clutching a design of her clothes as a professor, the Ravenclaw wouldn't have any trouble putting two and two together. Atarah folded the piece of paper into a small square and slipped it into the same pocket as the key. Her pants were bulky, and the dark dye disguised the vague outline of the objects. Some of her friends in the castle staff saw her and exchanged pleasantries before heading their way. It was strange to realize that she would suddenly not be here. It's not like she was a hidden figure in the system; she often stood beside the lady of the House. And now, she was headed to prepare for her leave.

Outside the castle, lots of houses surrounded the building. Families of public servants and noblemen generally made up the population. Occasionally, there will be tourists who wish to view Katolis Manor. Street vendors made the most out of the busy schedules of workers. Establishments targeted wealthy residents. Atarah walked past all of them, to the border enclosing the grounds. Easily recognized and respected, she left without an ordeal. With a few more steps past the boundary, she gripped her wand, as it was always kept in her sleeves, and Apparated outside Gringotts. 

For a second, she felt disoriented. The loud noise of Diagon Alley enhanced the ringing in her ears. Still, there was no puke or fainting spell. Satisfaction flooded her body; she trained to be this tolerant. She could only improve.

Smooth columns towered over her as she stood in front of the entrance. She willed the after-effects of Apparation away and pushed the double doors open. A long and high-ceiling hall went on to a raised desk of sorts, where a goblin sat going through records. Apart from the groan of the doors, her presence was accompanied by silence. Her footfalls were muted still by the charm of her boots, and no word or hum left her. She reached the desk and said evenly, "I would like to access my vault and make a withdrawal."

"Do you have your key?" the goblin replied at length, finally looking up from his work. Atarah wordlessly handed it over. He called out to a coworker who then led Atarah over to the cart that would lead to their destination. She sat next to him, minding the sharp turns and staying still in her seat. The cart stopped abruptly, and her guide announced, "Vault 724." She waited for him to open up the vault with his hands and the key. The ornate door's machinations came to life and whirred open. She stepped inside and moved to her piles of galleons, pocketing four piles to the enchanted left pocket. She moved onto her sickles, taking two piles and two more piles of knuts. She reinforced the feather-light charm on it and then left. On her way out, they returned her key.

The woman left Gringotts and secured her pockets to protect them from pickpocketers and cast an additional charm to be ignored by others. She walked along the right side of the alley, stopping midway at Madam Malkin's. She constantly hears of her friends purchasing robes from here, and even Sarai referred to this shop when shopping for her sons. Plus, it was conveniently close to Gringotts, and so she entered, removing the alienating charm.

From the window display to the interior space, the whole shop was cramped. It seemed that having a robe for all occasions limited the walking space to view said robes. A short and stout woman walked into view.

"A new customer! Welcome to my shop, dear, please look through the merchandise. My shopkeeper is absent today, so it's just me. I hope something catches your fancy. If you need me, I'll be over there." She pointed to a crowded area she was no doubt organizing. Quickly, Atarah spoke up.

"Actually, ma'am, I was hoping you could tell me if you have anything that looks like this?" She dug out Callum's sketch from her pockets and unfolded it. Then she handed it over to the elder woman.

"This is a marvelous sketch, dear, you're welcome to apply as a designer here. The proportions are realistic for once. This isn't a dress you've seen somewhere else, is it? It's certainly not one of mine. Are hoping for a custom-made dress?"

"Yes, please."

"It'll cost you more and take more time."

"That is fine. Will you do it?"

"Firstly, explain the design and colors to me. I'll make sure my assessment of your measurements are accurate and once we come to an arrangement, I'll name my price."

So Atarah rehashed the explanations of the skirt's hidden slit within folding, red and gold Katolian color scheme, and detachable skirt. Yes, the buttons are just for decoration. Yes, she'd like inside pockets wherever possible. She'd prefer the material to be thick, near-indestructible, and light. The clips are to be metal, please. No, additional charms are not necessary. The price was twenty-eight galleons, two sickles, and four knuts to have it ready in two days, though the short woman murmured that she's giving her a discount since it was her first order in her shop. Atarah bought another simple dark gray robe from the store, just in case something came up and she had nothing else with which to go to the interview. 

As she left the cluttered store, she felt proud that such a big unknown part of her shopping was handled well. Now, she only had to stock up on quills, ink, and journals among other things. The sun hung in the sky, reassuring her that there was no rush.

* * *

When Atarah left, Callum decided to be productive and practice his wandwork. This was definitely not because he was trying to impress anyone. 

Of course, even if he was, there's nothing impressive about the charm spells he was doing. Levitate this; now let it down gently. Turn the green leaf into a white napkin. The most foolish-looking one: make light appear at the tip of your wand in broad daylight. 

He knew that the guards and mages sanctioned throughout the grounds worked out and trained for physical and magical disputes. Even the ones who dealt with the rest of the populace instead of guarding the manor knew cool spells and contributed to society every day. Meanwhile, he, the step-son of Lord Harrow, was still riding a metaphorical magic bike with training wheels. He was living in a building that held a treasure trove of books filled with obscure knowledge about duels and potions but wasn't allowed access. Everyone thought him too young and not ready, but with passing day Callum felt that was just a big lie. He's proven his adept spellwork and memory recall time and time again to counter their claims that he had to master his magic level before advancing. More and more, it felt like they were just against him, the step-prince. He was hopeful that this year, his third year, he can make a breakthrough.

In the school year before, Callum brought up his problems with theoretical DADA classes with his professor. He sympathized with Callum but argued that the rest of his classmates grew with this curriculum better, that Callum is an anomaly in a system where human mages usually are only ready for dueling spells after their fourth year and so he can't change or speed up his lessons for one student. In his defense of theoretical learning, he brought up a strange subject: ancient runes. 

Perhaps Callum managed to annoy the normally level-headed man with his persistence, and so his professor mentioned it out of spitefulness, or maybe he felt like tossing a bone to a relentless pursuer. Either way, he said something like, "Talk to Professor Kazi to take their course as an elective next year. Study of Ancient Runes is also a theoretical subject, though I daresay that if you are as attuned to magic as you say you are, you can be the first to channel the power of the runes in hundreds of centuries. Be the first bloody human Archmage."

Ancient runes essentially was a powerful and primordial alphabet, pre-dating human written records by approximately five hundred years. Thanks to heavy researching done by a now-renowned group of Moonshadow elves, they managed to conjure up scenes of how the runes were used, reading lips and observing throat movement to determine their sounds. From there, it was all conjecture. They've been categorized into elemental groups based on their power's effect. Some are still in use by those learned in the area of knowledge—like Kazi, a multi-linguist Sunfire elf—, primarily the moon (no surprise there) and sky runes. 

Callum wasn't putting too much stock into conjectures and theoretical subjects, but his DADA professor planted an idea in his eager mind, and it was already taking root. Ancient runes was a topic of hot debate when they were discovered, something Callum vaguely remembered hearing Binns going over. People were ambitious, specifically humans, to do more research and tap into the power of the runes. Others (mostly elves) argued that the power of the runes was mostly destructive and should not be pursued. In the end, the interest died off when humans found they still required wands to do runic magic and no rune of great power was found. In other words, this was another dead end and lesson that told him and everyone else _no, you can't do it. This isn't for you, you'll never be ready._

_Give up._

The boy heard those words enough to understand no one had the right to tell him that. He was already set apart from his peers, finding magic to come easily to him. Once, he'd peered into an upperclassman's Transfiguration textbook and mastered the inkwell to fluttering, metal bug spell within the hour. He wasn't impatient, he was literally born ready. Hopefully, this year would end the wait for exciting magic.

"Do I get to learn that?" Ezran asked loudly. Callum realized he was still technically in the vicinity of Ezran's safe place. He hadn't deactivated _lumos_ and still stood there in the middle of the courtyard among the flower pots he was levitating. Promptly, he coughed in favor of ignoring how surely the guards nearby witnessed him zoning out and making angry facial expressions.

"Yeah, I can show you right now if you want."

"Oh, I left my wand in my room." Callum's thoughts halted. As his older brother, the first thing that came to mind was—

"Ezran! Never leave your wand out of the same room you're in, that can be dangerous!"

—to lecture him. He didn't let his personal achievements cloud the facts: humans are less adept at magic than their elven counterparts. At Hogwarts, house and race rivalry made it rule number one to always have your wand on you at all times. Panic of what could happen to his kind, little brother if he left his wand in another room while at school flooded him.

"Ugh! You're always so serious, Callum! I didn't lose it yet, it's just inside my room. Are you gonna let me get it or are you backing out on teaching me?"

And just like that, Callum's worried expression fell apart at his brother's carefree attitude. Count on Ezran to make magic seem meaningless. Just then, the color-changing lizard let out a low hum and drew Callum's attention.

"You know, I can't believe you choose a toad as your pet. Owls are much cooler. You'll still have to choose one, anyway," he mentioned while shaking his head. He walked back into the manor, flower pots in his arms and wand stuffed into the pocket of his pants. Meanwhile, Ezran dramatically threw his arms into the air at the subject change but followed him and took the bait.

"What do you mean I still have to choose an owl? Can't Bait take care of messages for me? Hogwarts is so demanding."

"No, Hogwarts doesn't really care about that, but mom does. She told me when I had to choose that both of us have to choose a personal owl from our owlery to send messages with so we don't have to depend on the ones from Hogwarts."

"But can't Bait do it?"

"Everyone uses owls," Callum responded with a shrug. There wasn't much to explain except that the more popular way to deliver news and goods seemed to be owls. Got a big package to deliver? Use more owls to hold it up. Secret message you want to send? Charm it and tie it to a trained owl's legs that will defend the message from prying eyes. Toads could work, but people build owleries in buildings and prepare snacks for owls, not for toads or cats or anything else. It's an inconvenience to send a different animal, end of story. 

"Will we still talk?" Ezran asked in a small voice. Callum looked back at him in bemusement.

"Of course we will. Even if you don't get sorted into Ravenclaw. There are things you can do after classes end, and eventually Hogsmeade trips come up. We can join some of the same clubs, too. Not everything is held within years and houses."

"Not sorted into Ravenclaw? Why wouldn't I choose Ravenclaw?"

"That's not how it works, Ezran," the older brother laughed. "The Sorting Hat chooses for you. If people were allowed to choose their own house, the rivalry would actually be so much more serious. Since family and friends split up between houses, it helps reinforce house cooperation. Don't sweat it, you'll be surrounded by people who generally think like you do, so you should be fine. Mostly."

"A hat?" was all Ezran echoed. Callum moved again and returned the flower pots. "Like I said, don't worry about it."

"About what?"

Callum tripped over air, heart stopping in fear of the pots crashing and breaking. He distantly heard Ezran cheerfully greet Claudia and then recalled he already put them down a moment ago. 

"Woah, Callum," Claudia drew out, alarmed as the younger boy propped an arm against the wall and heaved a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, you're totally fine—I'm totally fine!" He coughed out of nowhere. Ezran and Claudia looked at him weirdly and then started bringing up how long it had been since they last met. 

"You're so tall now, Claudia!" Ezran teased.

"You got a little taller yourself. Callum too. I remember when you were just a little baby in a blanket." She broke off to make baby sounds and cooing at Ezran's forced scowl until they broke character and laughed in unison. He stayed quiet because he already greeted her earlier and wanted to avoid embarrassing himself more. 

"Where's Soren? Usually by now, he would have brought up his Quidditch achievements."

"Oh, he... stayed behind. He wanted to come, but Dad said that since he still didn't start his summer essays, he's not allowed." Something in her expression told Callum that wasn't the entire story, but they weren't the type to discuss heavy topics. Also, Soren didn't like Callum and treated him poorly, so Callum also disliked him and didn't mind leaving it at that. They'll all be seeing each other next month, anyway. Finally, back to Hogwarts and maybe to a fruitful year. 

Nothing could go wrong. Much.

Ezran offered a reconnaissance and retrieval mission to the kitchens, clearing the mood and giving them an activity to do together. When Claudia eagerly agreed, the Ravenclaw pushed his whispering worries to the back of his head and smiled with them.

* * *

"Why did he have to come unannounced? It's not hard to send a letter, some common courtesy!"

Harrow skillfully held back from pointing out Sarai's inclination to dismiss royal and noble customs, including the courtesy calls and letters. This was about the interruption more than it was about Viren. The three of them were friends, and that friendliness extended to Lissa, who married Viren and reared two children with him. Sarai in particular was fond of her, sending presents she thought the other woman would enjoy to help her destress, something all mothers understand. 

"Come on, what if it's an emergency? At least he didn't come earlier in the morning."

"Don't," she said lowly. "Don't use those eyes on me, I wanted today to be our first peaceful day alone in weeks. Drop the hurt puppy act, it's not gonna work."

Harrow sighed despondently.

"I understand, Sarai. I'm sorry you don't like him."

Sarai stayed seated in the chair they were previously about to make out on, mourning the loss of their playful mood. Her husband sent a helpless smile at her and then left the room. For one second, Sarai wondered how much of her attitude was warranted. She wondered if the smiles aimed at her husband were truly just smiles or something more. She wondered if she had any right to deny support to maintain their friendship. As always, she ended up relying on what she was certain of.

In the hall, Harrow looked in shock at the warm hand grabbing his right hand. 

"I don't have to agree with you to want to be at your side." She pressed the golden band on her ring finger against his skin, and the significance was not lost on him. He gripped her hand back and pecked her lips, knowing that Sarai had been the first to bow down to feelings and being content to follow her lead.

"Thank you."

They walked together to the meeting hall, where Viren stood speaking with Gren. The latter brightened up upon seeing the pair and Viren followed his line of sight. He was on his way to find Atarah to tell her something but ended up stuck entertaining Lord Viren until now when his superiors showed up. Ever the positive one, Gren admired the comfort the sight of his friends gave the Lord of Del Bar. A small smile appeared on his stern face, which was notably not there beforehand. His chin lifted from the imposing downward position he favored with the redheaded commander, but not too high. 

"Harrow, how good it is to see you again after all this time," he greeted smoothly in a pleasant tone. Quietly, Gren bowed, addressed the two leaders, and then discreetly walked away, intent on finding the elusive female mage and speaking with her.

"Viren!" the broader man replied and laughed as he drew the haughty man into an embrace. Sarai giggled at the look of shock and immediate resignation Viren made. He patted his friend back a few times and stiffly pulled himself away. 

"Sarai, a pleasure. You must be busy keeping this place under control." 

"Busy? Why would I be?" she asked airily, daring him to say it. In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, Viren's eyes flickered to the side and back again at her.

"Ah, I see. It's been quiet here, hm?" 

And no one other than the three speaking sensed the subtle tension.

"My Lord," a servant announced, who had been waiting for a moment of silence to interject. "The food is ready."

"Shall I wait for you to finish eating?" Viren asked, keeping up with propriety.

"A guest waiting apart from his hosts? Now, I don't know if you mean to insult us or make a joke." Then to the servant, he requested, "Prepare three places at the table in the upper-right-wing dining room. Ezran and Callum will understand." Sarai made no objection, agreeing that privacy is preferrable for the situation. 

"Right away, sir. I will notify you when it's prepared."

Harrow nodded and Sarai added a "thank you" before the servant strode away.

"That will probably be ready in under ten minutes. They're a swift bunch, dependable and capable. Let's take the long way to get there."

Sarai used no small amount of pride in her words and playfully motioned Viren to begin heading out the door. Her foot took a small step forward to show the two will follow shortly. When he turned around, Sarai huddled closely to Harrow's side.

"Do not mention Atarah," she whispered. Harrow's eyebrows drew together in protest, so Sarai quickly continued. "You know his _creative solutions_ create more trouble than they're worth, and we need her to be able to keep an eye on his ideas. For the kids." 

The last part ended in a plea. Harrow knew the intricacies of Sarai's relationship with Viren. She's never been afraid to disagree with Viren, nor averse to reach out and laugh with him. One of her strong suits is her ability to separate people from their actions, get to know them, and treat them accordingly like she did with him. Sarai wanted to keep their guardian a secret from the Slytherin Head to keep an objective eye on his movements, keep their sons away from dark magic. So Harrow nodded.

Viren was right about to round the exit of the room, and Sarai and Harrow sped up to catch up with him. Low banter and Sarai's famous giggles echoed in the long corridors, painting over the scene in the hall with simple joy. Friendships, when strong, can overcome many diversities. Briefly, the three nobles forgot their agendas and history, appreciating shared words and time. Always, this always happened, which makes it hard for Sarai to ever truly ignore Viren. The Slytherin, for all his faults, seemed to be a man, like the rest of them. He laughed, cried, judged, and apologized. 

For that humanity, she accepted him, but for humanity, she did not accept his magic.

In terms of sections and fields, there were many types of magic, somewhat indefinite. However, there were two main branches of magic: light and dark. Dark magic wasn't controversial until the Second Ogre War when humans began using it on a grand scale. Before that, it went largely unaddressed and unfavored. The war brought up the usage of deadly power through dark magic as well as the crimes connected to it. When peace negotiations were being conferred, they also tried to talk about dark magic but found it too large a subject. Thus, a separate council was designated to describe the levels of dark magic forbidden and punishment for each level. 

Research went into finding out the depth of the magic as seen in the war and used in the world. It had been banned because of its effects and the way it drained natural resources too quickly, but then they discovered how the sinister spells were cast. Magical creatures, especially the elves, were beyond enraged that human mages had killed their kind to forge a dark weapon of mass murder against them. Death, death, and more death. It was abominable. During the time of those debates, many interracial bonds were severed and lost. Citizens of the human kingdoms stood up for morality, denouncing dark magic and stigmatizing its effects. The thought that these weapons could easily be used on them if ignored was not lost on them. However, that did not stop mages from continuing their dark pursuits.

Some initial levels of dark magic were allowed since they did not kill living creatures nor cause death. This is actually very common to see in potion-making. Hogwarts, along with other establishments, went through legal pains to do it the right way and harvest only from the dead who consented when alive or nonliving objects. Sarai suspected that his penchant for potions was what led Viren to dabble in dark magic. It's not as uncommon as one would think. More awareness of dark magic had a negative effect by interesting those who wanted power. Now, it was hated and illegal but continued to occur in hidden areas and shadowy alleys.

And enclosed rooms in noble houses.

"It is right here," Harrow said gently, causing Viren's response to Sarai's joke to fade until it was silent. The doors opened without prompting, though not because of magic. Katolian servants were eerily in tune with the manor-castle, so much so that Sarai and Harrow did not show a reaction to it. Viren followed their example. 

In the middle of the room, a circular table covered by a crimson silk tablecloth was placed in the center. Decorative silverware was placed aesthetically onto three perfectly split surfaces, delicately folded napkins waiting on each plate. In the center area, there were servers full of different dishes accompanied with a food tong or serving spoon. A table to the left, set against the wall, was full of deserts and jugs of water, juice, and wine. Even though they opened the door, the servants were nowhere to be seen; Harrow, Sarai, and Viren were alone and in a private room.

"So they choose the round table. It's fitting, I suppose. A little odd to not see the bigger, rectangular one." 

Sarai was proud to say she did not roll her eyes.

"Yes, they did great work in very little time. Take a seat now, you two." Wordlessly, Harrow moved to her left and she moved to his right, seating themselves like that. Viren took the other chair, with Sarai on his left and Harrow on his right. Respectable chatter about the food went on, compliments here and there. Viren did not miss the way Sarai had somehow shifted closer to Harrow's side without him noticing her doing it. It was an understated shift in positions, yet shouted all the same: where once they were all equidistant to each other, now the two were united and opposite to him. 

"It's been so long since your last correspondence, Harrow. Did something happen, or change?"

"Yes, about that," Sarai spoke up. "I've been meaning to ask about you and Lissa. We haven't tardied in our communication, so I'm somewhat aware of the situation."

"Situation? What situation?" _What and why didn't you tell me?_ went unsaid.

Viren cleared his throat. "Lissa is... we're trying to... conceive." Harrow made an expression as if to say _go on_. "This has been going on since the beginning of the year."

"Oh," Harrow replied dumbly, not wanting to touch on intimate matters with his friend and his wife. "Well, it's almost August. Are congratulations in order?"

"No, well, we haven't—"

"Viren and Lissa can't get pregnant. She's distraught. They're turning to specialized mages for help, but so far, no answers."

"There _is_ an answer," Viren muttered under his breath. Sarai heard him.

"No."

"She told you. It's what she wants, she's just being stubborn about 'tradition.'"

"She doesn't want to involve her potential baby with dark magic, and what does tradition have to do with anything about this?" 

The taboo of dark magic silenced the conversation, but the doors were closed and the privacy charms were up. Among nobles, it wasn't anything new. Harrow discreetly moved his right hand over her knee, squeezing lightly. Sarai calmed down. 

"I don't intend to tell you what to do in your marriage, Viren. I just want you to know you can talk with us about it." When he stayed quiet, she added, "I promise not to attack your ideas and feelings. Sorry for raising my voice earlier. I know I'm Lissa's confidant and represent her side of the argument, but I'm also your friend and want to support you anywhere I can."

"Thank you, Sarai. I'm glad my wife has such a devoted friend like you," he replied earnestly. Another one of Sarai's abilities: drawing out sincerity and reason in escalated situations through her own sincerity and open heart. And Viren didn't lie. He knew his wife was feeling stressed about the lack of supported answers, tired of chasing half-assed theories that resulted in losses. That she opened up to Sarai, a woman deeply trusted by Harrow, was comforting that someone else indirectly helped where he could not.

"I'm glad to be her friend. Your family is more than lovely enough as it is. Claudia has such a bright mind. I heard something about a Head Girl?" No one reacted to the subject change.

"Not quite..."

"Claudia as Head Girl?" Harrow piped up for the first time since the mood got serious. "She's brilliant, yes, but doesn't strike me as a people-person to be Head Girl. No offense, Viren. I mean, sometimes talking to her feels like she's using a different language."

"I know exactly what you mean," Viren groaned. "She was _supposed_ to be Head Girl because her grades put her at the top of her class, but when the heads of the houses were going over it in a meeting, it was quickly vetoed. We chose a Hufflepuff instead." 

"I can imagine their faces when they heard her name," Sarai grinned.

"Claudia is not the socially brightest," acquiesced Viren with a tilt of his head. "Still, her intellect far surpasses that of her peers. And elves still have the audacity to say they are the intelligent race. My daughter learned everything from me, and I haven't even shown her all I know yet. There is something humans naturally have in abundance that elves lack: humility."

"Oh, yes, you are very humble, Viren," Harrow interjected. "Really. You're so mindful of your own flaws and not everyone else's." The other man glared at him half-heartedly, unable to resent the man before him.

"You would understand if you had to constantly socialize with them too. If I leave, the human students will have one less adult on whom they can depend, so I'm stuck there." No one else could convince Viren to insult his colleagues, but here, he knew it was safe. "They're so arrogant, babbling nonsense about moons, an elemental nexus, Xadia. 'Human kingdoms cannot compare.' Spoken like a true ignoramus. Aaravos is the only tolerable one of them, but he's had centuries to learn from the mistakes of his people." He let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping for a second before he tensed up again. "Which leads me to explain the real reason for my visit."

Sarai and Harrow glanced at each other, a reminder of who to not bring up.

"The truth is, I did not come here because your letters slowed down. I came to speak about the one I sent recently."

"Yes, we read it," Harrow assured. Sarai scoffed. 

"You read it, I heard what you told me. What exactly happened, Viren?"

"I was attending an event for the annual magic discoveries three months back," he began, a severe expression on his face. "Before the event reached the intermission, I got up to go to the bathroom, but as you'd imagine, the building was big and the walk just as long. I stopped walking when I heard a large group of people about to turn the corner. Call me crazy, but I had a weird tugging in my gut that told me to hide. I barely tucked myself away behind one of the pillars before they started walking down the same hall.

"I didn't get a good look of their faces, but they wore Moonshadow robes. Their murmurs were too low for me to hear before, but when they passed by the pillar, I caught some clear words: 'can't wait to spill human blood.' And they _laughed_. I know anti-human sentiments are nothing new, but I couldn't ignore that gut feeling I had the entire time. 

"So I ordered spies to hang around towns near Silvergrove, camouflage with the residents and watch out for political intents against humans. At the end of the first week, we had our first lead. An elf showing suspicious behavior, but hard to track before they appeared on the scene and gone after. I decided to get involved and managed to follow them the second time they showed up, in the following week. At least six of them, hooded, in one section of Silvergrove's forests, and an unmistakable Queen of Dragons with them."

"What were they doing there? Planning?"

"Reporting to her, it would seem. Most of what they were saying made no sense until I heard the end of the meeting. The elves were silent when not answering her, but Zubeia left them one last message. She said, 'Katolis will rue the day they shed our blood. Harrow will pay; a life for a life.'" 

"Avizandum was the one who broke the treaty," Sarai asserted, holding her pounding forehead. "He should not have been outside of Xadian borders, to begin with. No one knows what happened or how! Zubeia is mourning her family, I know, but why can't we even talk with each other? Why does the response have to be vengeance?"

"They don't need a reason. They're angry and just want humans to suffer in a twisted sense of retribution!" the equally frustrated mage replied hotly. "You're all in danger. I will help as much as I can with the information until I go back to Hogwarts. Claudia and Soren will be there, I cannot leave them alone in a place infested with children of murderous elves. They aren't aware, but they aren't the targets. Your children—don't tell me they're going to Hogwarts." 

Sarai squared her shoulders.

"Aaravos is the strongest mage there is, and Hogwarts has many protections put in place to prevent harm to students. He's the reason the school isn't exclusive towards humans. No one is more powerful than him to cause Ezran and Callum any harm."

"Aaravos won't be sitting in their classrooms or checking their food! He won't be trailing them every Hogsmeade trip!"

"We're not giving them permission this year," Sarai responded. Viren lifted a brow.

"That's not going to stop them, especially if you haven't told them." Sarai averted her gaze. "I don't blame you, but you're taking a big risk sending them off like that!"

"You think I don't know that, Viren?" she hissed.

"You can't rely on just Aaravos," he stubbornly went on.

"We aren't," Harrow confirmed. Sarai tensed but turned to look at him as the other man did. "You'll be there, too. I know you're already looking for Soren and Claudia, but if you can spare an eye or two to look after our boys, that'll help greatly."

Viren groaned lowly and slumped in his chair, knowing his answer and feeling foolish for having brought it upon himself.

"Please, Viren," his voice said softly. 

"I'll do what I can," he said tiredly. "If it's within my power, I promise to do whatever it takes to protect your sons." 

* * *

The owl's journey amongst the stars in the sky ended when Hogwarts came into view. Bypassing the checkpoint charms, it landed in the balcony of a familiar acquaintance. Not often, yet more than occasionally did it make the trip from Katolis manor to Hogwarts. 

From its position on the balcony, the view of the Headmaster's quarters showed surfaces and shelves riddled with papers and bizarre, magical instruments. To the owl, the elf that twisted in front of a mirror looking back at it was illuminated sufficiently for his midnight-hued robes and star-freckled body to not be hidden in the dark of the night. Eyes questioned the animal's presence, eyes that glowed an otherwordly amber in the shadows. 

"Well, my friend? What news do you have for me?" The owl fluttered into the room and dropped the envelope it was clutching backwards in its beak, revealing the noble seal of Katolis's leaders. Oh, so Harrow had written him something. He thanked the bird and opened the envelope to take out the enclosed letter.

_Aaravos, first I must explain myself before asking what needs must. I fear I have not confided in you as I should have, you who have been my sponsor and dear friend, and to my father and his father and so on. It is with this regard toward you that I entrust dangerous secrets no other can know, and I entrust to you the safety of those who would be gravely harmed if caught in the crossfire..._

With each sentence, Aaravos's concern increased until at last he put the letter down. How had his protege gotten involved in these schemes without him knowing? Not to mention with the woman's secret and the boy... this year may end up being the busiest so far. Although, Harrow wants to lessen his burden by offering the help of an esteemed mage who is well-read and professional enough to teach History of Magic. There was already someone applying to hold the Defense Against the Dark Arts position since Professor Hadrian abruptly resigned mere days after the school year ended. Against his better judgment, Aaravos decided to welcome the eccentricity; when had he ever let "abnormal" stop him from hiring people to teach at his school?

With quick wand work, he summoned paper and ink, writing his response through magic. When he finished, he gently took the floating letters and folded it into an envelope, using his personal seal to close it. His wand met the surface of the envelope and with a few murmurs, tendrils of color wrapped around the paper before sinking in and disappearing. He looked it over and nodded in satisfaction. He looked at the inquisitive owl, and the compassion in his chest spurred him to stroke the soft feathers before teleporting the owl right outside the magical barriers of Katolis, letter in beak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In the show, Callum and Ezran are four to five years apart in age. Here, that's been lessened to two years so that allows Ezran can attend Hogwarts while Callum is still young as well. The number of established characters in HP vastly outnumber those in TDP, so some remain untouched in their position, such as Madam Malkin and the goblins. This crossover is basically TDP characters in the HP universe, so it's not excluding HP history and characters. Both are included, some parts are just replaced and tweaked. Much of this chapter is building the character dynamics, with a focus on the current views on dark magic, as the title suggests. Runaan's appearance is in the next chapter, and his character introduction is the one after that.
> 
> Secondly, this chapter would likely not be here, even though it's late, if it wasn't for my friend Monserrat. She helped me regain inspiration and motivation to get this out, so I'm dedicating this chapter to her. Shout out to Hafter for being the first comment for this story on this site, and thank you to everyone who read and left kudos. The support helps a ton.
> 
> Lastly, I posted this chapter yesterday but the fourth scene had a major plot inconsistency. I sorted it out and updated a paragraph in chapter one so the story flows better. You don't need to reread the first chapter because the update is thoroughly addressed in this one. I hope the length makes up for everything. Stay safe, guys.
> 
> ..... there was another plot error I had to fix. Definitely important in the long run. I'm going to advise readers at the start of chapter four to reread just in case.


	4. Breaking Rain

The sun shone on Katolis and roused the inhabitants from their sleep. The people marched about in the streets, and even the shouting sounded like home. Meanwhile, Atarah sat listlessly on a ledge hanging over a tall building, watching from a distance.

An emptiness pervaded her body, such a foreign feeling that tugged at her face. She stubbornly set her expression in a strained smile. It felt as though giggles and mad tears would escape from the funny feeling in her chest if she let it. Harrow received a letter back from Aaravos this morning, confirming the interview in two days, informing her, Gren, Corvus, and Lady Sarai of course. It seemed like they accepted her reassignment, and that only she was freaking out about the change, so she left quickly to be by herself.

And she felt so stupid for finding it to be such a shock. Nothing tied her here, but everything here made her want to stay. She watched these people and was familiar with their faces and names and voices. She watched as a watch guard must and enjoyed how open Katolis was. Truthfully, she resented that she caused this state of limbo within herself for constantly getting attached from the outside and never trying to be involved inside. In no way did these things claim her as she had never claimed them. Her job never felt this hard to her before, like it was a burden. Perhaps that was because usually, her job demanded that she always return here. She held onto hope that becoming the kids' protection detail would not change that, that it would be temporary. This morning felt like a dream.

No, that was a lie. It felt like a nightmare. Because she did not _want_ to go, but she _had_ to.

Feeling much like the fool, the woman dug her fingers into the cold surface of the tiled ledge, actively ignoring the tears rolling down her face. Just like she always does.

Once the salty taste of her emotions touched her lips, she furiously wiped her face and set her brows. This was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She closed her eyes and then drew in a deep breath. And she let it go.

There. See? All better.

But as soon as she opened her eyes, she heard those words he said taunting her in her head. She was always friendless. Always alone. Just a replacement changing her job to be someone else's replacement.

And that was... okay.

* * *

For some, there's an internal clock that wakes them up in the morning, or the brightness of daylight peeking into the room. For Ezran and Callum, it was the smell of breakfast.

The kitchen was relatively under their rooms on the first floor, and the cook would often leave windows open to clear the air of onion smells and other things. A smell of fried potatoes slices and bacon wafted through the kitchen window and up into their rooms. They woke simultaneously, convinced to leave the warmth of their bed for substance in their stomach. Callum chuckled when he heard a thud sounding from the room adjacent to his. He hurried as well, though, wanting to have the first choice of the dishes.

It was a whirlwind of movement in both rooms until Ezran swung his door open and began running half-heartedly. He just woke up, after all. Callum cursed his messy hair and settled for patting it down instead of combing it, sprinting after his brother. He had the advantage of longer legs and a better disposition of recovering from sleep quickly. He passed by Ezran's now-walking form with a laugh, calling out, "I'm gonna win!"

That seemed to wake the other boy some more who was carrying his new pet in his arms. He tightened his grip on the reptilian skin and sped up his walk into a run as well. He noticed Callum far ahead, intending to take the stairs and race down more halls to get to the lower levels where the dining hall was. He giggled and changed veered off his course to the left, to a door that was partially obscured by a heavy, crimson drape. He turned the knob and slipped in. Inside was no boiler room or abandoned construction area, but a small space the maids occupied to travel between floors at certain hours of the day to finish their tasks on schedule. It was a rule that no one but maids were allowed inside, but Ezran knew that this specific area was accessed by a door on all stops, separated from the rooms where the maids worked. He could hear noise coming from the other doors, some hollering and many footsteps, but no one was inside the stair area.

He approached raced down the stairs. His little breaths tickled Bait, who felt more lost than ever. The halls were beginning to grow on him, but this castle was seriously too big to deal with, and the boy Ezran always managed to surprise him. Secret vents, hiding in bushes, and now stairways behind drapes. Bait knew it must be a shortcut since the taller boy with the moppy, flat hair mentioned winning. This was a race, and Bait was just along for the ride.

He grumbled and flashed pink.

Ezran stopped at the lower platform of the stairs and slipped through the drape-hidden exit to the first floor there. A little farther down the same hall were the kitchen and dining room. The snicker from the human shook the glow toad, who had begun to recognize the smell of pastries growing stronger was no coincidence. Well, it's not like he was hungry, but he could eat a tart or three.

Setting Bait down on the floor with care, Ezran turned the knob and entered the dining room, all set up already with the day's breakfast. Off to the side, contrasting the bright colors of fruits and desserts, stood a dark figure. After a few moments, the figure turned and revealed a perky Claudia. A tiny, steaming cup sat on the table in front of her, still embraced by her hands.

"It's a lovely morning."

"O—"

The door slammed open.

"Wha—How?!" Callum panted some more and then pointed an accusing finger. "Seriously, how are you here before me? It's too early in the morning for this," he groaned, slumping onto the door.

"Hot brown morning potion?" Claudia offered.

"Oh, hi Claudia," he offered back half-heartedly. "Will it wake me up?"

"Oh, will it," she chuckled. "On second thought, I don't think I want to say goodbye to sleepy Callum. He is very relaxed."

"Did you make it?" Ezran asked. Claudia nodded.

"It took a few tries. There were failures, but that doesn't matter," she insisted. "This baby is perfect!"

"Who drank the failures?" Ezran continued, seeing as Callum was busy trying to decide what to eat.

"Soren did."

Ezran felt for her poor brother, he really did.

"Hey, there's croissants this morning, and some of the cream cheese pastries!"

"Orrrr the nutritious dishes like sausage and scrambled eggs," Ezran teased. Callum shot a pointed look at his plate, which was somehow already loaded with jelly tarts. The smaller boy rotated the plate in his hands a little to show the other side blocked by the tart pile. There was a minuscule serving of egg next to half a sausage. Callum looked skyward.

"Alright, you two, serve yourselves and sit down," Claudia called with mirth. The boys spoke to each other but listened all the same, with Callum putting more servings of "nutritious dishes" on Ezran's plate. They sat down across from her, mindful of the other three seats set up by the staff.

"Why aren't they here yet?" Callum questioned. Claudia spared a glance to the seat next to her, and Ezran copied her. Bait croaked back at the boy's stare with a proud bearing and jelly-coated crumbs around his mouth.

"Knowing dad, he's probably talking to your parents about some interspecies affair. It's all he does at home. He hasn't had time to relax, lately. It worries me and mom." The dark-haired potions prodigy sighed despondently, chin on her palm and finger stroking the handle of her mug.

"Are you guys okay?" asked Callum. Ezran was flabbergasted at Callum's casual audacity. Of course, Callum was usually slow on the uptake with social cues, especially with girls, and even more especially with Claudia. At least Claudia wasn't as reserved as most people are.

"We're all doing fine," she replied in a strained voice. "It's just that, Soren—"

"Good morning," Viren said levelly, walking through the door. Claudia stopped looking conflicted and smiled at her father. For some reason, the boys felt unsettled by the timing and effect of his entrance but greeted their friend's father with politeness.

They have always known that Claudia's parents and their parents were close friends with each other, and that's why they expected Callum and Ezran to be friends with Soren and Claudia. It was easy to like the sister, but the brother was too rough with his hands and words. They usually steered clear of him when it got to that. However, Lissa wasn't here this time, and neither was Soren. Lissa was the more approachable one of the two, and her presence even made talking to Viren easier. His intimidating presence was more pronounced this morning without her. Even Claudia stopped talking, which was something.

The quiet reigned for a moment. Outside, the clouds were grey and kept passing over the bright sun, casting the room into a shadowed light every now and then through the glass windows. The switch paused on the shadowed light, adding a damper to the mood.

He joined them with his loaded plate, frowning at their silence. He looked over to the view of Katolis. Although they were on the first floor, the manor had been built on a strategical hill to overlook the plains and forest around it. There were carpeted stairs throughout the halls to connect the first floor together despite the difference in ground levels. In some rooms, such as the dining room, the ground level was high enough to peer over the walls surrounding the manor and into the city less than a kilometer away. The lord of Del Bar was aware that his personality was... intense, to say the least. Not many were willing to get past that part of him nor did they do so with good intentions. Nobles mostly constituted those who did, though mostly for personal gain. Harrow had been the first to see eye-to-eye on Viren's passion for politics, studies, and friendships. Because of Harrow, Viren learned how to have fun, and he met Lissa and they fell in love. Sarai met him toe-to-toe on passions; they just never seemed to be on the same side.

These children were of nobility, but they didn't connect to him or understand his disdain for jokes. He felt that his entrance not only interrupted Claudia, but it also put their ease on pause and is the reason they weren't talking. He wished they wouldn't because he'd rather they have fun than not. At least for right now.

"Your silence is fit for a classroom, not a shared meal." The three kids eyed each other quietly, one of them wishing their Gryffindor companion was present to spark a conversation seeing as none of them would. Viren resisted muttering under his breath.

"Also, your mother and father are busy this morning. They told me to tell you they'll be late for that reason."

"Is something wrong?" Ezran asked, concerned. Callum also looked at Viren expectedly.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Claudia said innocently. Viren looked at her with amusement at how her words paralleled Sarai's the day before. He didn't want his children to be left in the dark, and it seemed that Harrow's kids caught onto the severity of the matter, even if not entirely.

"They're just planning for a trip when you and your brother leave for Hogwarts. Something about catching up on old times."

Immediately, the boys scrunched up their faces, a loud "ew" and "yuck" lightening the mood. The clouds started moving again and a bright light streamed through the windows. They went on, ignoring the disturbed glow toad that backed away from their increased noise. Claudia laughed at their expense, and they continued talking, much to Viren's pleasure. They might've understood his words the wrong way, but he didn't lie. After all, Sarai did mention greeting her sister at the Banther Lodge to catch up on each other's lives.

* * *

It seemed the sky's fluctuating mood with the sun gave out. Rain clouds poured heavily, causing street shops to close up and others to board up the windows. The pavement kept splattering regardless of anyone stepping, and a step would cause the water to jump up spectacularly. People took shelter in the homelier cafes and bakeries, those who were familiar with the effects of the weather. Inside, they grumbled about the pompous restaurants that turned them out.

Reckless children splashed about in another corner outside, their laughs drowned out by the sound of water falling. A woman popped her head out and shouted at them, though they only paid heed when an angry, underdressed man stormed out of the house at the woman's behest. The week's paper poked out from under his umbrella, causing it to run wet with the rain.

Yet another person walked down the streets. Unlike the unruly children, they had on a sleek coat with a hood that hung over their face, covering it from the weather. It extended all the way down, a few centimeters off the ground. Matching heeled boots peeked out from under the coat, showing no sign of dampness from the accumulated rain on the ground. It washed over them, making contact but never truly touching them. They walked out to the borders of the town. Sentries stopped the figure, wearing similar dark coats but looking less important. It was probably because their hoods extended less and clung to their faces, which were wet.

"Name or wand, please."

The person reached into a pocket and took out a wand. The guards remained unfazed, believing that the powerful wards on the grounds would erase magical threats. While waiting for their wand to register them, they thought that it was a pity the guards were not trained to be more alert. Who's to say a wand would be produced from a pocket? What about a dagger or pistol?

Meanwhile, the guard who took the wand held the tip to an enchanted paper, which showed the personal details and face of the wand's owner.

"Atarah of Katolis," the guard drew out, turning to face the figure. "Could you lift your hood to confirm you are indeed this person?"

She complied, scrunching up the edge of the hood to show her face. He looked at her features and deemed it a match.

"Reason for leaving?"

"Visiting an acquaintance."

"Very well," he replied tiredly. His hand offered the wand back. "Enjoy the time off-duty." His voice denoted more sincerity.

She knew from her days on border patrol that he knew she was off-duty from the magical registration paper noting down her job as a mage guard at the manor. Normally, it was amusing to try and guess if the guard on duty would recognize her and behave submissively or if they were new and would treat her like a fellow guard. Her name was never really extolled, but that meant she was doing a good job not attracting too much attention. Some of her more experienced colleagues either knew her from the days she worked with them or from public events that required her to show her face and be at Lady Sarai's side. There were still plenty who had no idea who she was, like this guy. She smiled dryly, faint amusement peaking through her wariness, and took her wand back gladly.

"Thank you."

Casting one more look at the empty and flooded streets of Katolis, she disappeared with a loud _pop_.

Atarah swirled back into existence a few meters away from Diagon Alley. The ringing in her head happened again, and it wasn't pleasant. She recovered more quickly—or rather, forced herself to continue moving as if she did.

As she expected, it wasn't raining there. She lowered her hood and took off the coat, showing her green dress underneath. She would like to say it was just a dress, but this was also padded and enchanted to act as armor. The coat went into her customary bottomless pocket, folded thin and dried thanks to her wand. Her bun was slightly askew due to the hood and bothersome rain, but Atarah didn't bother fixing it. Not yet, anyway.

The interview with Aaravos was in a few hours. He had written down to meet at Hogwarts at seven in the evening, and it was some minutes after four right now. Her orders from Madam Malkin's had yet to arrive, so she came prepared with galleons to pay for a rush order or hopefully just pick it up. After making sure she was presentable, she continued walking to the shop.

Here, the day looked relatively nice. No shining sun, but no oppressive rain either. More crowds of young people fluttered around the shops, generating cheerful noise. Diagon Alley almost always proved to be a cheerful and magical place. The quaint shop Hogwarts delegated its students to for robes was open as well. Quietly, the young woman stepped in.

She noticed a section of the shop looked much more organized and open than it did on her last visit. That day must have been hectic for the madam, who told her that her clerk was gone and was apparently busy organizing the chaos of clothes. Despite that, she offered to personally assist Atarah, and she was courteous the entire time with her and her custom request. Atarah felt her respect for the shop owner grow.

At the checkout counter, a new person with curly, short hair stood and welcomed her. Atarah smiled back politely and approached the counter.

"Hello, I'm Atarah, a returning customer. I made a custom order here yesterday and paid for prioritized service. I'll need the order shortly. Is it already complete?"

"Well, this is short notice, but I'll check for you. What did you say your name was?"

"Atarah," she replied, feeling sorry for being _that_ customer. Truly, she respected this business, but she also received short notice.

"I'm Florencia. One quick second, please." With a customer-service smile, Florencia disappeared behind a door in the back. Atarah's gaze swept the room one more time, reminding herself that she had a couple of hours left anyway and willing the nerves in her belly to go away. After a few minutes, Florencia emerged from the back door.

"You ordered nine robes for fall and winter and one custom dress, yes?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The clerk raised an eyebrow. "A whole new wardrobe, huh? Glad you came to us for that. Anyways, we have all of your order except for the custom dress ready to be picked up. That will be available tomorrow, and we can still deliver it to you if you want."

She wanted to blame Callum for building up her hopes, but she also was invested in the idea of her wearing the dress as a professor. It was a small light on this dark day for her, but she tried to not let it show. She offered a smile instead, nodding that she would like to pick the other orders up. Florencia went through the door again but took less time coming back, carrying two large packages.

"This one is for fall," she said, letting the bottom box fall from under her arms to the counter. "And this," Florencia went on, dropping the second box on top, "is for winter." She crossed her arms and looked up at Atarah.

Hesitantly, Atarah reached for the second box, placing it on top of the other one. The clerk commented that she was going to check the aisles quickly and left. The mage guard lifted the top from the box and saw the four fall robes she ordered folded inside. One of them would have to do for the interview. Perhaps the brown one. It had splendid buttons and pleats, more detailed than her current green one and more mature-looking.

"Excuse me?" Atarah called. "Clerk?"

Around a corner, the head of curly bronze hair popped out. "Yes?"

"Is there a changing room I could use here?"

"Oh, oh of course, it's over here." She made her way to Atarah and made to lead her to the rooms. The door to the shop opened, and a huffy old woman stepped through, carrying a tote bag and calling for Florencia.

"Hello, dear, I wasn't expecting to see you here today!"

Atarah looked at the out-of-breath woman, recognizing her now. "Good afternoon, madam, I'm here to pick up the dresses. I'm going to put this one on," she added, bringing up her arm to show the brown robes draped over it.

"I'm not one to judge, but you certainly expect quick service." Florencia's smiling eyes darted to Madam Malkin with an indiscernible look.

"Circumstances," was all Atarah could say after stammering for a moment. "I have an important event to attend. An interview for a job," she hastily went on. "I only found out this morning." Then she awkwardly turned her body fully to both women and bowed slightly, robes still on her arm. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

The short woman looked at the distressed girl in front of her and chuckled. "Calm down, dear. This is nothing, believe me. Your orders were already in stock and you paid to be prioritized. Plus," she drew out, setting her bag down. Her hands reached into the bag, pulling out a brilliant vermillion and brass-colored dress. Pride filled her face. "I finished your order."

Atarah's heart grew warm. She felt her face smile.

"It's..."

She looked at the rich colors of the dress, fingering the details at cuffs and subtle patterns on the sleeves.

"Lovely." She looked at the shop owner who preened at her customer's reaction, grinning at her and her stunned assistant.

"Put it on, then!" shooed Madam Malkin. She grabbed the brown robes off Atarah's arm and motioned for her to go into the changing room. She complied, quickly changing into the dress and walking out. The heeled boots she wore didn't interfere with the look of the outfit. Just to make sure, she patted the pleats in the skirt until she found the slits and slid her hands through so her hands sat snugly in the pockets of her pants. When she went back into the shop, she wanted to ask how to remove the skirt as they discussed. After expressing her approval of Atarah's appearance, Madam Malkin responded to her question.

"Reach under the fold along your hips—yes, right there, dear. The original design to unclip the skirt, it was a good one, yes, but inefficient. I used a uniform belt of sorts—you can't feel it? Good, good! The more comfortable, the better. Oh, you simply detach the belt, like so, and then..."

She showed Atarah how to unclip the front parts and showed how from there it came off. "Voila! And then just hide the belt in there again and clip it to reattach." She did it exactly that, connecting the skirt to the top and patting it down. "Got it?"

The door opened again, and a group of friends entered the shop, greeted by Florencia.

"Yes, thank you."

Atarah went turned back to the door of the changing room, though the madam had arrested her arm with a questioning look. "Aren't you going to wear this to that interview?"

"This is not for that," Atarah said vaguely, but it was possible that the elder woman picked up on her desire to wear it. Sarai and Harrow's orders rung in her head vividly. She could not be Atarah of Katolis anymore, even though she longed to wear its colors and style her hair with pride. 

"I see, dear," she said softly. "Good luck with your meeting." The woman patted the girl's upper arm and left, leaving Atarah to enter and change into the brown dress she settled on earlier. She folded the shining and smooth fabric of the dress, wondering if she was a fool for still ordering and paying for the dress.

She went to the front, seeing her packages placed to the side and her own green dress she had been holding inside as well. Technically, there was time to go back and leave this in Katolis, but she truly felt that if she went back now, she'd skip going to the interview. At the same time, asking for it to be delivered after all she did seemed like pouring salt on a fresh wound.

"Hm? Oh, do you want it delivered?" Florencia asked when she saw Atarah staring at the boxes.

"No... I'll come to pick it up later today." She began to move again, sticking her hand into her pocket through the skirt and withdrawing her hand, holding a pile of galleons.

"You already paid—"

"I enjoyed the service I received here." And after grabbing the clerk's hand to place the coins there, she said, "Thank you—" she racked her memory for the name she gave her, "—Florencia."

"Don't call me that," was the automatic response, which startled Atarah. Had she caused the clerk to have a bad day or offended her? "I mean, it's such a long name. Call me Flo."

Relief filled her thoughts, but the mage only nodded and turned to leave the shop. She understood why so many people liked this shop.

"Hang on!"

Atarah paused and looked at the owner of the voice.

"Your interview, where is it?"

Atarah debated not telling her for a split-second but reasoned that no one here could understand the implications of her applying there. "Hogwarts."

Madam Malkin appraised the girl one more time, recognizing that the young woman must be accomplished or know important people to be interviewing there at this time of year. "Mind the weather there, I just came from Hogsmeade and it's like the skies are emptying their water reserves! Do you need a coat? We have quite the variety."

 _It was raining over there too? And it sounds like it won't be any more pleasant than the weather in Katolis right now._ "That's alright, I've already got one. Thank you for telling me."

"Alright, dear, take care of yourself." And then Madam Malkin disappeared behind a rack of clothes. Atarah summoned the coat from her pocket, left the shop, and put it on. Steeling her nerves, she imagined Hogsmeade and Apparated.

Her knees faltered but didn't buckle. The rain caught her by surprise still, pelting her through the fabric of the hood and cloak. It was louder than Katolis, all kinds of people milling the streets despite the weather's onslaught. Orange lights flared through windows and inside people gathered to enjoy social life. She entered one such building: the Three Broomsticks Inn.

No one noticed the door admit a new person. Tables were inhabited by men and elves, a mix of magic folk. Someone shouted that pets weren't allowed, stepping away from a silver-eyed wolf. An elf watching countered that it's wasn't suitable to travel now and that he already bought a drink. Other groups chattered and laughed, pointing fingers at each other and fighting over who was right. Everyone refrained from using magic, and rightly so because no one wanted to get kicked out into the rain. Atarah grabbed a chair from a table near the door, left empty in favor of the warmth farther in the room. The tables all around were taken, and a spot was missing a chair like someone took it to fit into their group's table. She carried it along the side of the room, stopping when she was in the middle of the mess. Then the chair was settled on the floor right next to the wall. She sat down, seeking anonymity from the crowded area. That, and she also didn't want to be near the drafty door.

She decided to wait inside, either for the rain to let up or for the interview to approach. Lord Harrow gave her the okay to be open with Archmage Aaravos. He explained the connection between his family and the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and trusting his wife's claims of Atarah's knowledge of history to be enough for the job.

Working for Lady Sarai is the only reason Atarah is aware people do not treat her respectfully. Sarai never seemed to give off a snobbish air even though she had a confident personality. She prided herself on who she was and seemed embarrassed by titles. It reflected her previous station as a civilian woman, though she probably had bad experiences with nobles to warrant her dislike of labels. Atarah never spoke to her at the beginning, thinking it was part of her job to remain in the background and serve. It seemed Sarai believed the opposite. She was always making terrible jokes and discreetly smiling at Atarah like they were both in on it. It was the friendliness the lady showed her that made her realize how everyone else held her at a distance.

On their trips alone, Sarai would converse with her guard and talk about the day and memories (good ones, embarrassing ones, personal ones). In doing so, Atarah adapted to a new way of talking, seeing as how she was used to speaking extremely formally. However, Sarai recognized that Atarah had to focus to do her job and would respectfully remain quiet in public. It wasn't ignoring her because she'd do little things keep a door open or glance at her to make sure she was alright. Occasionally, she'd look toward Atarah and ask for help or advice, and Atarah delivered. Near the end of their first year together, she began telling Atarah to stop calling her by her title and being formal. It does make sense since before she became her guard, her sister was the one protecting her.

She never met the famed General Amaya, since she was serving at border patrol while Amaya served at the manor. When she got reassigned and promoted, Amaya had gone on a diplomatic mission with the Sunfire elves. Apparently, she made ties to someone important during a trip with Sarai, and now she was busy trying to stabilize territorial wars on unsettled land with them. People only had good things to say about the missed woman, leaving an impression on Atarah of a warrior with great internal and external strength. In Amaya's absence, Atarah became part of a quartet in charge of protecting Sarai, reflecting the extent of the previous guard's abilities. She did for the better part of a year.

Following the incident of a serious attempt on Sarai's life, the four guards were given leave to recover from the injuries. It was then that Sarai announced she was choosing Atarah to be her personal guard, interested by the stranger who had fought so hard to save her. Amaya's lieutenant, Commander Gren, was tasked with training Atarah to be up for the job. For two years and going, she was trained to improve her mental thought process and represent Katolis to others. Then spell dueling, identifying poisons, and knowing cures and counters among other things.

It was in politics that she didn't necessarily start from zero in. Atarah had to learn about the more recent events but knew plenty about history. She didn't go to Hogwarts partly because she wasn't nobility and because she hadn't known it existed. Only mages went to Hogwarts, and that consisted of nearly every elf and the human nobility. Elves naturally linked to magic, but not all humans could channel magic. There were plenty of names for people like them, and Atarah thought herself part of them when she was a girl. She didn't have a mother who received a letter of acceptance by owl for her eligibility at Hogwarts or a brother to shop at Ollivander's with. Atarah was dropped off at an orphanage as a baby, and she received her education from the yellowed books they used to teach them how to read and the pub down the street from the building.

No one had liked her features. Everyone else had rounded eyes and different skin. She was too light and not dark enough; she was too quiet; she was weird and they wanted her to get away from them. Even the staff, who were a kind crowd, stood and watched her be ostracized with hardened eyes. It wasn't traumatizing, but it was just enough to chip away at her sense of worth. She didn't know that as a child, but she felt it. She felt how she didn't matter and often slipped away from the orphanage to get away from the stares and forced loneliness. Chosen loneliness stung less.

Her memory of meeting her mentor was vague, but she did remember feeling thankful for the kindness he showed her. It was probably something stupid and little, or maybe he saved her life, but she wandered back to that place many times when she could and saw him again. He was a reserved man, acknowledging her when he saw her until he got curious and learned she lived at the orphanage. He always laughed and told her that she copied a lot of his mannerisms, and that it was amusing to see a young girl sitting on a crate with a serious look and saying things like "it grieves me to hear that" and "your soul seems weary, rest."

He was a scholar, but people undermined him the way they did her. She complained about her literary lessons to him, and he countered her opinions with a passion. He spoke of stories of sorrow and hope, life lessons, and books that changed the world. Books tell you about the inner parts of people: their thoughts and motives. They explained why things are the way they are.

He told her books can tell you about who you are and where you come from.

Aside from his claim that she always copied him, Atarah could not deny that knowing more about her history piqued her interest. It helped that her mentor was proud of her newfound interest and taught her what he knew and gave her things to read. He told her the story behind men and elves and the wars between them and amongst the races themselves. He said that she was lucky to look so different because her features originated from the Oriental clans, and they had a special history and culture; she could use her looks to trace back to her family. But both of them knew that Atarah wouldn't be going on a journey like that any time soon.

He tried comforting her once, when her mind was going crazy soaking in information and she got frantic about learning more about where she came from. Atarah was confused with what he said, but he awkwardly dismissed his words, not knowing that they were already stuck in her head. She wondered if they were more alike than he let on because it sounded like he had been thinking hard about it. He was embarrassed when she was asked what he meant, though he usually patronized her. Still, Atarah never did well with philosophy, so she took his attempt to respond to her questions to mean that the questions weren't important, and honestly, she could see why he was right. To this day, no one cared about her origins and seemed content making their assumptions about her instead of asking. She can only cover so much with Sarai over trips that happened twice a year, and Gren doesn't like getting personal. Her other acquaintances rarely speak with her, busy themselves.

This interview she has will not delve into that either. All she has to do is explain not being a noble and being well-read. Her competition is dead. Literally.

Breaking out of her reverie, the mage asked a barmaid what the time was.

"It's almost six o'clock," came the response before the maid bustled on through the room. On any other day, she'd wait another half hour to start moving, but she had to account for the weather today and the fact that you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds. She stood from her chair, leaving it against the wall, and dragged her hood on before exiting the inn. Perhaps it was from spending so much time with her teacher in that pub growing up, but she felt calm in those settings. There was something nostalgic about it.

Hogsmeade was a village full of surprises for its quaint appearance. The view was obscured by the heavy rain, but she had a good sense of direction and checked out a map before leaving Katolis. Hogsmeade had a train station that Hogwarts would book out for its students on the first day of school, winter break, and the end of school. From there, there was a path to go to Hogwarts by carriage. That was what Atarah planned to tread to get to Hogwarts. There's no way she's crossing the Black Lake.

She walked toward the train station, noticing a distant, bulky shape there. As she got closer, she noticed two things. One, that it was a carriage, and two, it had a window that an elf was looking through. For a moment, the woman reflected on her appearance and wondered if the cloak she was wearing made her look suspicious. The head in the window disappeared and in the second after that, shoes touched the ground on the other side of the carriage. The elf had a hood-less, purple cloak on and was carrying an umbrella. He could pass for a human if it weren't for the curved horns jutting out from the sides of his head and the lilac markings on his skin.

"Hello, you're the human mage with an interview at Hogwarts in an hour, right?"

She was taken aback. "Yes."

"Herbology, right?"

"History."

The elf nodded to himself and waved a hand as if to say follow me. He led her into the carriage through an open door, closing the umbrella carefully to avoid dripping water all over the place. Inside the carriage was a small but comfortable space. The seats were plush instead of flat like the chair at the inn. Fashionable fabrics draped along the sides of the inside. Atarah minded the roof and gathered her coat around her so it was all in the carriage.

With practiced quickness, her hand grabbed hold of her wand and cast a drying spell. Then she sat down and reluctantly took off her hood, watching the silver-haired elf close the door and lay the umbrella on the floor. He took the seat across her, exhaling deeply and then flashing her a grin. Then he got a good look at her face and blinked. She too froze when she recognized his features were that of the Moonshadow elves. He broke the silence first, trying to regain a smile.

"Normally the carriages are less accommodating, but the rain and specialty of the visit called for this one. How are you?" he asked in an accented voice.

"Dry, thanks to you." She offered a slight incline of her head but made sure to remove sincerity from it. That gesture was reserved for Lady Sarai and Lord Harrow.

"What was your name again?"

"My name is Atarah."

"I'm Ethari." He held out his hand for her to shake. "Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. Also the professor for Care of Magical Creatures."

She extended her hand and grabbed his, making sure to keep her ring finger and pinky together out of respect that she was the one with the extra appendage of the two of them. He looked at her quietly and then smiled again.

"It's usual for a teacher to change every few years at Hogwarts—"

Atarah raised an eyebrow. It was? She wondered if she should be worried.

She also wondered if Ethari was dangerous.

"—but changing two teachers in the same year is a little different. What prompted the sudden application?"

"Well, actually, Headmaster Aaravos is the one who sent the sudden notice. I'm following up on his request."

She left out the real reason for her joining the staff and tried redirecting his suspicion. It's common knowledge that Aaravos was an enigmatic and untouchable figure in the world. No one questioned his actions. Though, honestly, Atarah was starting to feel like her interview started early.

"Oh, so that's what happened. Can't say it surprises me," he accepted. For some reason, his appearance and voice were an odd match in Atarah's opinion. It sounded friendly but looked unfamiliar to her. Unlike the light hair people she knew had, there was nothing golden about the pale hair he had. It was styled in a cropped style. His skin's markings on his face were aesthetic but new enough that Atarah had to restrain herself from gawking at him. She wanted to observe the rest of his features and analyze his movements, but he was looking right at her and they were less than five feet apart. It would be rude to be so shameless, and she already almost did so.

" _Two_ new teachers?"

"Yes. For DADA. This is why I was curious about why you were coming today since originally it was just supposed to be the two of them."

She left her muscles devoid of extra tension despite feeling worried. The Headmaster hadn't mentioned this in his letter.

"I don't doubt the both of you will be accepted. Well, I'm glad we started off on a good foot," Ethari quoted in his strange-friendly accent. She acknowledged the human phrase he threw in for her with a tiny smile. He turned his gaze to the window. "It's really a shame the weather isn't agreeable this evening. Hogwarts is always a beauty to behold." He let his head lean against the side of the carriage.

In a soft voice, he said, "It's a second home for me."

Atarah swiftly looked him over while his attention was diverted, filing his continued markings and penchant for intricate, metal jewelry away in her head. Just as quickly, she looked away, to the window where he was looking. The trees were beginning to thin out. After a few beats, they cleared away. However, there was no grand sight. There was, though, a broken-down building standing before a large lake. Ethari seemed enamored by it, though, so Atarah kept her mouth shut. After a few more minutes of riding in the carriage, it stopped.

"Alright, here's our stop." Ethari opened the door and picked up the umbrella. He got out, looking back at the human mage and asking if she needed assistance. She shook her head and got out, covering her head with the draping hood again. The horses moving the carriages went on, leaving the woman and the elf stranded in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps there was a portkey to bypass the Anti-Apparation charm?

He walked toward a wooden sign saying "keep out" and stopped. At that moment, she knew what he was going to do and understood what was going on. A charm to prevent unwanted visits, hiding the school grounds from view. Her companion rose a palm and pushed against the air. A subtle burst of magic traveled in the air, not upsetting the fall of the rain but making contact all the same.

Her jaw dropped.

The castle was bigger than Katolis manor. It had a gothic design and many towers. The pale-haired elf noticed her pause and looked at her face.

"The nostalgia's kicking in now, isn't it?" he asked with a blossoming smile. She dazedly followed him, hearing him distantly tell her he would guide her to the meeting. Her body fell in line, absorbing the new environment. By the time they entered the castle, she had better control of her expressions. Sure, she'd never been in a building with so many portraits (who were talking to each other and looking at her), but they were nothing new. The moving stairways? Almost made her whip out her wand, which she had been thumbing the whole time. And it was so big. She wasn't even sure how Ethari knew where he was going.

They were walking down a corridor to a gargoyle. Ethari cleared his throat.

"Metamorphosis."

"What?" she asked after a beat of silence. The arch with the gargoyle rumbled and then it shifted up, revealing spiraling stairs. Atarah made a small 'o' shape with her mouth. She looked at Ethari, expecting him to continue leading her through secret passages, but he moved off to the side.

"The stairs lead to Aaravos's office. I would say good luck, but I don't think you'll need it."

She looked at him, judging. He seemed friendly enough, but she only just met him. She needed more information to properly label him a threat or not. A quiet voice warned her to not trust him. So far, only Headmaster Aaravos and Madam Opeli had been cleared as trustworthy. Everyone else here need not know her motives.

Atarah's face settled in a stoic stare, feeling the ghost of this morning inhabit her body again. She went up the stairs without a word quickly as she could.

No one actually cared about the truth here. It was as useless as knowing where you came from was. If you obey and stay out of the spotlight, you can live peacefully. All she was right now was the guardian of two children who needed her to have this interview so they can be safe. This was for Callum and Ezran, and for Lady Sarai and Lord Harrow. She had a job to do.

Nearer to the top, Atarah heard the sound of a hushed conversation carry over to where she was. When reached the last stair, there weren't anymore winding halls or passages. Right outside the alcove was a large, open room. There was a symmetry to the design. Bookshelves boarded up against the walls with mirrored stairs leading to a higher platform in the room. Two pillars in the middle connected to beautiful arches. Foreign objects were strewn across the room, looking to be astrological contraptions and other mysterious things.

Most notable were the two elves standing in the middle of the open space. The recognizable one, though she had never seen him before, was the Startouch Archmage. His body seemed to be made of galaxies and the hues of a purple twilight. Innumerable constellations covered his exposed arms and splattered over the area along the bridge of his nose. Three diamond stars, larger than the rest of the twinkling ones (yes, they were twinkling, it was slow but noticeable), sat side-by-side on his cheeks and an even larger one glowed on his chest. His horns differed so much from any other elf she had seen, looking thicker and taller. He was so beautiful, she managed to admire his looks despite the instincts going off alarmingly in her head at the other elf.

When she managed to stop looking at the star-freckled elf, Atarah just so happened to make eye contact with the second Moonshadow elf she encountered at Hogwarts. Where the Startouch had glowing amber eyes, this Moonshadow had cold blue eyes that regarded her unpleasantly. He wore teal robes and had an angular face with two bold markings across his nose. Both elves' hair was kept long, but he groomed it into a low ponytail and smaller ones framing his face. It was indescribable, being in a room with two different types of intimidating presences. Aaravos had strength from his magical prowess and fame nobody dared challenge, allowing him to act freely.

This stranger had strength from his imposing figure and the look he gave her devoid of all compassion and goodness. It was the bearing of someone unafraid of facing death or dealing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Glow toads resemble chameleons (reptiles) more than toads (amphibians). Also, I envision Madam Malkin's as a bigger shop than what's shown in the movies or the shop in real life, taking creative liberties with that. I know it seems weird to have not included the scene with the letter from Aaravos and how it all went down, but I'm not ignoring it. It's just that the impact it had on Atarah surpasses what happened and I need the focus to be that and the build-up for the interview for now. In time, I'll reveal what happened and who said what. It all finally starts in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and reading. Please stay safe and healthy. A special shout-out to students procrastinating; we're really going through it, huh?
> 
> Okay, so I changed a scene in Madam Malkin's shop. I will mention this again next chapter.


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